Perfectly Happy
by niennah
Summary: Guess who's back. And guess who doesn't know. Angelus has plans for Cordelia. Post Season 3. (Aus/C) --chapter 8 (final chapter) added - There Is Only Me--
1. Angelus

**Title:** Perfectly Happy Part 1 - Angelus  
**Author:** Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, et cetera.  
**Feedback:** Yes please.  
**A/N:** Set sometime after the end of Season 3.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________   
  
  
Angelus strode towards her apartment. He was close. He could scent her from here. She smelled of shower gel, shampoo and expensive conditioner, of moisturizers, body lotion, exfoliators, the face mask she used twice a week. She smelled of clean clothes, carefully ironed, detergent and fabric softener. She smelled of whatever perfume she chose to wear that day.   
  
Underneath all that she smelled of Cordelia. That was the scent that lingered. The smell of her office when she had been working late. The smell of her apartment. The smell of sheets she had slept in. He remembered moments the Soul had stolen, in the dark basement of the Hyperion doing the laundry. His lip curled when he thought about it. He felt shamed. The Soul had brought him, the great, the notorious Angelus, so low. Burying his face in her sheets after those increasingly frequent occasions when she stayed. After a vicious fight, after a hard night's research. A night watching a movie with him and Connor. Filling his desperate senses with the smell of her.   
  
Though Angelus did have to admit that she was quite a woman. More woman than girl, ten times better than the last leftovers from the Soul. Angelus laid a palm flat on his belly, ran it lightly over his chest. He had become more man than boy since he had been out to play last. The Soul was finally taking care of himself. Though the taste of pig's blood rankled in his mouth. He had washed it away earlier. And he had left the wrapping in the Hyperion for his lovely Cordelia.   
  
He had reached her door. He tried to sober up, wiping the smirk off his face. It was not easy. He was filled with glee. He was free again, really free. No drugs that could wear off, no witch with her curses, no ex-girlfriend with a sword to plunge through his belly. Here he was, loose in this city named for him.   
  
And he had a most enjoyable evening planned.   
  
He raised a hand and knocked on her door. A moment of silence, then a rustle of paper, a low thud, and her footsteps coming towards the door. Angelus calmed the excitement in his blood. He berated himself for such immaturity. He was no fledge, far too old to be anything but perfectly poised for the hunt.   
  
But it had been so goddamned long.   
  
She reached the door and opened it. Angelus watched her face spread into a smile when she saw him standing there.   
  
"Angel!" she said. "Come on in."   
  
He did not need the invitation, but it made him smirk inwardly anyway.   
  
"Hey Cordelia." He stepped over the threshold. "I hope you don't mind. Connor's being… difficult, and you said I could come over whenever, so…"   
  
"Of course I don't mind, silly!" She hit him playfully on the arm, then pulled him further into the living room. "I was just reading. Can I get you some blood?"   
  
Ugh. Pig's blood here too.   
  
"No, I'm good," he replied. He noticed an open wine bottle on the table, her first glass half empty. "Some wine, though, maybe?"   
  
"I thought you vamps didn't drink… wine." Cordelia laughed. Angelus laughed too. He reminded himself to stay in character. It would be far less fun otherwise.   
  
Cordelia did not seem to notice anything amiss.   
  
"I guess even a vamp needs a change sometimes," she said, fetching a glass from the kitchen. "Blood, blood, and hey! More blood! Where's the fun? Variety is, after all, the spice of unlife."   
  
Angelus laughed again.   
  
"Yeah," he agreed, holding out a hand for the full glass. How little she understood. How much the Soul kept from her. He had known her for, what? Five years now? More? Nothing for a vampire, but a considerable time for a young mortal. And he had never once mentioned the subtle nuances of blood. Never explained to her that every human had their own unique flavour. Never told her hers was particularly alluring. And she had never even asked.   
  
Cordelia sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her, indicating that he should sit there. He did so, attempting to look bashful, as the Soul would in such a situation.   
  
"So it's Connor, huh?" she said, grimacing.   
  
"Yeah." Angelus attempted an awkward smile. He felt he was getting a grip on this. How off-putting. "Playing his music too loud, and he's got really big speakers, plus" – he gestured to his ears – "vamp hearing, so I had to get out of there."   
  
Cordelia grinned.   
  
"Oh my God, I remember going through that." She laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Couldn't you ask him to turn it down? Explain about the" – she gestured to his ears.   
  
"I didn't want to," said Angelus, putting some kind of mournful, or possibly worried, tone in his voice. He quickly tried to think why the Soul might not want to tell Connor to turn his music down. Or snap the kid's neck. "We've just bonded, you know? So I just wanted to leave him to it."   
  
Angelus was already tiring of this game. He spent long enough trapped inside the damn Soul to go around pretending for too long. However, he calmed himself. Breathed her in, reminded himself of the rewards of this little piece of duplicity, tedious though it may now seem. Warm, pumping, trusting, aroused blood. Very little he could think of that could be sweeter.   
  
"Sure," nodded Cordelia. "It hasn't been easy, has it?" She looked concerned.   
  
"No." He sighed, and decided to remain silent.   
  
After a moment staring at his saddened face, she reached out a concerned hand and rubbed the length of his arm.   
  
"Hey!" she said. "Silk?"   
  
Angelus looked sheepish. He was getting too damn good at this. Made his stomach turn.   
  
"It was in the back of my wardrobe. I had nothing else clean."   
  
"Nothing else clean? The guy who's turning into a laundry freak?"   
  
He had to suppress a laugh. He took a sip of wine to hide it. Tasted like nothing.   
  
"I guess I'm busted." He looked at her, smiling. "I'm sick of cotton. Variety, you know. Spice of my unlife."   
  
Cordelia laughed.   
  
"Right! Why not? It suits you."   
  
"You think so?"   
  
"Yeah. It's funny, I never really thought that before. I guess it's too like you-know-who."   
  
Angelus had to take another quick gulp of wine.   
  
"Well," he said, as soon as he could. "That's what I always thought, so I never wore it. But it's kinda nice."   
  
"Sure it is, it's silk." Cordelia smiled shyly. "I love wearing silk," she said.   
  
He knew what she meant. As would the Soul. But the Soul would pretend not to, and he'd ask a dumb question, then get all embarrassed when she answered.   
  
Here goes.   
  
"What? You don't wear much silk. You're wearing cotton now."   
  
He tried to look flustered when she lowered her chin and looked up at him with smoky, sultry eyes.   
  
"Oh," he said, and laughed nervously.   
  
Time to take it up a notch. This was pathetic.   
  
"Me too, actually," he said.   
  
She looked surprised. Shocked, even. He made sure to look anywhere but at her. And fidget with something.   
  
Aw, fuck it.   
  
He looked straight at her, suddenly calm.   
  
She coughed, and took a sip of wine.   
  
"More information than I thought I'd ever have," she said, a touch too brightly.   
  
Angelus smouldered. His voice became low as an earthquake.   
  
"Really?" he said.   
  
Cordelia paused.   
  
"Well, yeah," she replied quietly.   
  
He said nothing, just sat, continued to smoulder, his eyes on hers.   
  
She laughed quickly, a single breath.   
  
"Angel!" she said.   
  
He half smiled.   
  
"Cordelia," he replied, his voice so quiet.   
  
She drank more wine. Angelus had forgotten his. He took her glass and placed it on the table.   
  
"Cordelia?" he said again.   
  
She cleared her throat.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"What did you want to tell me? After you called me? That night you ascended and that little… Connor, the night Connor locked me in the box?"   
  
"I… Angel, I…" She sagged against a cushion behind her. "You already know. You'd never ask like this unless you already knew."   
  
He moved closer to her.   
  
"I don't know. I won't know till you tell me." He looked so earnest. He could feel it. He even felt like the Soul. Ugh.   
  
Cordelia looked him straight in the eyes. Angelus enjoyed that. He liked her eyes. He imagined them closed in ecstasy. And horribly open in pain.   
  
She looked away. She examined her fingernails with intense concentration.   
  
"What's the point?" she whispered. "You left Buffy because you couldn't be with her. Couldn't give her what she needed. If you could, you'd go straight back to her. So you can't be with anybody. You couldn't even want to be with… me. Be with me."   
  
Angelus raised her chin with a perfectly-manicured thumb.   
  
"Buffy?" he said, almost laughing. He hoped she would misinterpret it. "Buffy… That's over, Cordelia, surely you know that?"   
  
"Is it? I don't know, Angel. You guys were, like, soul mates!" Cordelia's eyes became glassy with tears. She would not let them fall.   
  
"Cordelia." He whispered her name, running a finger down her cheek. Such a pretty cheekbone, he thought. Such a mouth. "Cordelia, it's you I want. You know that."   
  
Cordelia sniffed, and smiled a brave smile.   
  
"How could I know that, Angel? How can I really believe that? How can I compete with Buffy, and Darla? How could I know?"   
  
Angelus ran a casual fingertip over her lips. She flinched slightly, but did not draw back.   
  
"How could you know, Cordy? Because you're not stupid. You're not blind. You've known ever since the ballet."   
  
She said nothing. But something in her face, he could see it, a relaxing of certain muscles, acquiesced. She had known.   
  
"But it changes nothing, Angel."   
  
He moved even closer now. He could feel her breath on his cool cheek.   
  
"Why not?" His hands were roaming over her extremities. On hand lingered on her foot curled up on the couch. The other played with her fingers. His touch was light, but insistent.   
  
"You know why, Angel! The curse!"   
  
Angelus laughed.   
  
"Oh, Cordelia," he said. He looked into her eyes, all the time his fingertips caressing her skin. "There is no more curse."   
  
"What?" He rubbed her frown with his thumb, caressing it away.   
  
"No more curse. It's gone. I didn't tell you before because… because I wasn't sure how you felt, if you felt the same way about me as I do about you."   
  
Her hand suddenly gripped his.   
  
"But Angel! How?"   
  
"I… I don't know how. I think it was the night I slept with Darla. I thought my soul was going, I could feel such pain" – oh, he could remember that night, the night he thought he would be free again, only to remain trapped; well, he thought, it did lead to his being free tonight, big picture – "but then, nothing. My soul still with me. I didn't know exactly what happened then, but since that night I have been more and more sure that it was my soul being anchored, Cordy." He grasped both her hot little hands in his. "How often have I been happy since then? With Connor, my son, and with you? Think about it! Surely, if I were to lose my soul, it would be gone."   
  
Cordelia simply stared. Angelus knew what he was saying could be true. If the Soul had not been such a worrier, had he let his problems slide for just a second, then he would have been free months ago.   
  
He saw her melt. He saw his words settle in her mind, make some kind of sense. To his joy, he saw her want them to make sense.   
  
Her breathing became erratic. He knew his moment.   
  
He leaned towards her, and kissed her. His lips rested only lightly on hers until he felt her respond. He moved closer, letting go of her hands, running his fingers up her arms until he lightly held her head. He opened his mouth and gently flicked his tongue against her lips. He felt her mouth open at his suggestion. One of her hands rested palm flat against his chest. The other trailed up his thigh until it held his hip. He felt her heat through her skin, felt her heart beat faster, smelled her arousal.   
  
He pulled her closer, kissing her now more insistently. His tongue plunged into her mouth as his hands roamed again downwards, merely flicking lightly across her breasts before stroking her belly, her waist, and holding her hips firmly.   
  
She pulled back, her lips red, her eyes heavy-lidded with sudden desire. A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth.   
  
"Angel," she breathed.   
  
"Cordelia," he replied, his voice full of warmth and lust.   
  
This time she grabbed him, invading his mouth, releasing months, years of pent-up lust. He took her by the hips and sat her on his lap, straddling him. She moaned gently into his ear when she felt his arousal, and began to grind her hips in slow, eager circles against him. Angelus could not help but release a low growl. Her hands worked now at the buttons of his shirt. She opened them quickly and ran her hands over his cool skin. He felt her enjoying his body, revelling in this new freedom. He slid his hands up under the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head.   
  
She did wear silk. Angelus pulled back from her kiss to admire the perfectly toned body astride him. He ran appreciative hands over her skin, watched her move as she continued to grind into his groin. Her breasts were perfect, held in a cream silk bra. She moved them towards him. He glanced into her playful eyes, and clamped his mouth over one of her nipples, soaking the silk immediately with his saliva, his tongue working through the material, his blunt teeth nipping and biting to bring her to a hard peak. She moaned again, rhythmically, as he moved to the other nipple, supple fingers still working on the first. As he soaked the second cup, he snaked his hands around her and unclipped the bra, watching as it fell from her pert, round breasts. She ran her hands through his hair, once again bringing his mouth to her nipples.   
  
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. Dennis opened the door. Again he suppressed a laugh. It was all too easy. Not that he complained. This one was hot. He had no plans to kill her best friend's fish. No. He had left a much more special present for her at the Hyperion.   
  
He laid her on the bed, sliding her pants down her legs. He left her panties on, and pressed two fingers against them, right between her legs. Damp and hot. He could feel her pulse under his fingers. He shook his shirt off, and kicked off his own pants. He felt the length of her hot body under him as he kissed her again. She spread her legs around him.   
  
"Oh, Angel!" she moaned repeatedly. He hated that name. But it would have to do for now.   
  
She pushed his silk shorts down with an urgency he exulted in. Not that it had been a tough conquest. But it was him, not the Soul. That thought alone made him tingle.   
  
He swiftly removed the remaining barriers between them.   
  
"Angel! Angel, wait!"   
  
He looked at her.   
  
"What? Cordy, is this okay?" His gut twisted at the simpering words.   
  
"As long as you can promise me… that I'm not going to get pregnant with another miracle child of yours?" She laughed happily.   
  
"I promise," he said.   
  
He plunged into her.   
  
She was not very experienced, he knew that. So the Scourge of Europe showed her things, taught her things for hours, bringing her to screaming heights of ecstasy, to whimpering beggings of need, to laughter of sheer delight. Should she escape him, he thought, should she survive him, she would never find pleasure in the arms of another man again.   
  
Not that she would survive.   
  
  
  
TBC.   
  
  
  



	2. The Gift

**Title:** Perfectly Happy Part 2 - The Gift  
**Author:** Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, et cetera.  
**Distribution:** Just let me know.  
**Feedback:** Yes please.  
**A/N:** Set sometime after the end of Season 3.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________   
  
  
The curtains were carefully closed, not a chink allowing the lethal rays to enter, though indirect light suffused the room with a warm glow.   
  
She lay on her side, facing away from him, her breathing soft and regular. He trailed a fingertip from her neck, over her shoulder, down her side and into the dip of her waist. She was truly beautiful. Her skin was the colour of honey, and her hair a rich mahogany. So full and vibrant, like the sound of her name. Cordelia. He relished the challenge he knew she would be. His triumphant return.   
  
He moved closer to her until he could feel her warmth along the length of his body. He brushed the hair back from her ear.   
  
"Cordelia," he whispered. "Cordy."   
  
"Mmmm," she said, stretching. He watched her wake slowly, climbing into consciousness. Before her eyes opened she smiled. He ran his palms in circles on her skin, bringing tingling life back into her aching muscles.   
  
She sighed and turned over into the cradle of his body. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his unbeating heart.   
  
"You're warm," she murmured.   
  
"I've got you," he replied.   
  
"You do," she said. She looked up into his eyes. "You really do, you know that, right?"   
  
"Yeah," he whispered. He kissed her forehead. "And now, since I'm the boss, I say you can be late for work this morning." He kissed her again, this time her mouth, slow and deep.   
  
Cordelia purred.   
  
Angelus smiled. She did not see him. Only the thought of the gift he had left her stopped him from sinking his fangs into her throbbing jugular.   
  
  
  
The day was beautiful. Cordelia's body sang with post-coital joy as she made her way through to the garden entrance to the Hyperion. The door was locked. Fred and Gunn still at home.   
  
She turned the lock and walked into the cool, airy lobby. She looked around. Empty. Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she crossed the marble floor to the reception desk. She left her bag on the desk, and turned. Time to make coffee.   
  
She gasped, startled, then laughed. Connor lay on a couch.   
  
"Connor! You scared me! Lurk much?" she said brightly. "Hey" – she noticed the single red rose in his hands – "who's the rose for? And the card?"   
  
He lay still.   
  
"Connor?"   
  
He was very pale.   
  
"Connor? You okay?"   
  
She stood beside him. He did not move. She tipped his head to one side.   
  
"Oh, my God."   
  
Vampire.   
  
Her head spun.   
  
Connor was dead.   
  
Who? Who had a standing invitation? Harmony? No. Not her style, she'd never dare.   
  
Spike? No. He'd never been invited. Connor was not naïve – he would recognize a vampire, soul or no. He would never invite Spike in.   
  
Which left… Obviously not Angel.   
  
Unless – No, Angelus was not back. She had woken up in Angel's arms, and he was still in her apartment.   
  
Angel! He would be devastated.   
  
She cast her burning eyes along the unnaturally still body. The envelope. It was addressed to her. She ripped it open. The card was tastefully thick, off-white, golden roses embossed on the border.   
  
"My dearest, loveliest Cordelia," it read, in flowing black script. "If you find this, last night went as I dared to hope. I long for you, Cordelia. I hope you accept this token of my undying love. Rest assured, my darling, that it will not be the last.   
"Yours, till death do us part,  
"Angelus."  
  
  
The card fluttered to the ground. Cordelia watched it. It took an age, tumbling earthwards, flickering, catching the light, landing soundlessly on the floor. She looked again at Connor. His neck was now bent at an awkward angle.   
  
He could not have left her apartment to do this. It was dawn by the time they had stopped making love.   
  
Which left only one possibility.   
  
Cordelia retched. She crumpled to the floor, staring at the card below her. Its golden roses glinted at her as her stomach heaved. She gasped, forcing herself to retain control. Her face felt cold and clammy. Sweat trickled from her temples.   
  
She took a few shuddering breaths.   
  
Breathe.   
  
She stumbled once more to her feet, supporting herself on the couch with her hand as she stood. Connor was still dead.   
  
There were voices outside the door. Fred and Gunn. Cheerfully chatting, she could not hear the words. She watched them come in, laughing, gesticulating. It made no sense. She saw heir faces as they turned to her. Bright smiles fading to puzzlement. To confusion. Eyes dropping to the couch. Horror.   
  
Something snapped inside Cordelia's head. She bent down and picked up the card.   
  
"Angelus," she said hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "Angelus."   
  
Fred and Gunn stared.   
  
"You need to get Connor to the morgue. Please," she said.   
  
"Cordelia –" Gunn stepped forward.   
  
She held up a hand.   
  
"Get him to the morgue." She closed her eyes. Opened them. "Before dark."   
  
Gunn nodded. He glanced at Fred. Fred still stared at the body.   
  
"I'll call… someone," he said.   
  
Cordelia nodded.   
  
"I'll be upstairs." She looked down at Connor. Laid a hand on his forehead. He was cold. Gone. She turned and walked up the stairs, step by robotic step.   
  
  
  
She walked to Angel's suite. It looked the same. Compulsively neat. A picture of Angel, Connor and Cordelia on the bedside, in a frame she had bought him on the day she had decided was his birthday. The anniversary of the night they first met in Sunnydale. They had worked the date out together. Another picture, this time just the two of them, smiling at each other, oblivious to the camera.   
  
Why did she wait to tell him? She wanted to. Ever since that night they dragged the monstrous metal box from the sea. She thought she had eternity. Or as good as.   
  
She left the suite, and went to the room she had been coming to think of as her own. She took all the clothes from the closet and carried them back to his room. She put them carefully away in the space in his closet. She took some books she had left and placed them beside his bed. Next she carried in her shoes, boots she wore to chase demons, and a pair of tiny Manolo Blahniks. Angel had remained silent for hours after she told him how much they had cost. Cosmetics, toiletries, all the little things that had accumulated there over the past months.   
  
She looked around the suite. She could not go back to her apartment. There was no where else she would rather sleep than here. This was Angel's room, her Angel, not the monster in her apartment. This was her new home.   
  
She took off her clothes, the clothes he had watched her don that morning with a lascivious smile lop-sided on his mouth. She threw them in the corner to burn later.   
  
The shower scoured her skin. She turned it up hot, until she was red and raw. She scrubbed and scrubbed, washing every inch, her breasts, between her legs, even her tongue. She could still taste him in the back of her throat. She laid her cheek against the tile. It felt cold. Sobs wracked her body. Her tears fell, disguised in the water.   
  
  
  
Angelus laid his cheek against the tile. It felt warm. He liked her apartment, once the curtains were closed. He was hungry, but he could wait. For now he stood in the shower, water spilling down his body. He lathered slowly, considering his next move. Not too carefully, though. He was enjoying this spontaneity.   
  
Screw destroying the world. Boring. But destroying one perfect life – now that was fun.   
  
  
  
They needed everyone, she told herself. Right now she needed him. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. There was a sudden pregnant silence, the sound of someone making no noise. Then she heard his footsteps come towards the door. He opened it only partially, his body blocking the path into the apartment. His hair was uncharacteristically tousled and his shirt was open to the navel. He must have left his glasses down somewhere.   
  
"Cordelia," he said. His voice was strained.   
  
"Wesley. I have to talk to you."   
  
"Now really isn't the best time. Perhaps you could call back – "   
  
"Now, Wesley. It's important."   
  
A voice came from inside. Female.   
  
"Wesley?" it said. "Who is it?"   
  
Cordelia knew that voice. She pushed past Wesley.   
  
"Cordelia –" he began, but trailed off. There was nothing to say.   
  
Lilah had obviously just come from the office. Her shoes lay by the couch, one on its side. Her jacket hung neatly over a chair.   
  
Cordelia simply stared. Lilah smiled the smile of a reptile.   
  
"Cordelia, right? Nice outfit."   
  
Cordelia looked down at the baggy shirt and jeans she had put on when she burned her clothes. She raised a supercilious eyebrow.   
  
"Thanks. Nice boyfriend."   
  
"Please! He's not my boyfriend." Lilah laughed, a fake laugh. "We just have sex."   
  
Wesley seethed.   
  
"Perhaps you had better leave." His voice was tight.   
  
"Wesley!" said Lilah, a false hurt tone in her voice. "You usually say that after we make love!"   
  
"Lilah." He held the door open.   
  
She stood, slipping her feet into her shoes.   
  
"Alright, lover," she said, taking her jacket from the chair. "Same time tomorrow?"   
  
"Can't wait." Wesley watched her leave with stony eyes. She trailed her fingertips across his mouth.   
  
"Miss you already," she whispered.   
  
Wesley closed the door behind her and turned towards Cordelia. He could not look her in the eye. His shoulders hunched as he buttoned his shirt back up to his collarbone.   
  
"Cordelia, I can explain," he began.   
  
"You don't have to, Wesley."   
  
"But I want to, it's just that I felt so alone, and I know –"   
  
"Wesley, Angelus is back."   
  
He froze.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Angelus is back. Connor is dead."   
  
"What can I do?"   
  
"I need a disinvitation for the Hyperion."   
  
"Immediately, I take it?"   
  
"Yeah. I've moved in, I'd like to sleep. Not that I will." Cordelia sighed.   
  
"You've moved in?" Wesley moved towards a bookshelf.   
  
"Yeah. Today. Angelus… came to my apartment. I can't go back there." She bit her lip.   
  
"Does… Does Fred still live at the Hyperion?" Wesley opened a book and examined its contents carefully.   
  
"No, she moved in with Gunn a month ago."   
  
"And you moved in today?"   
  
"Uh-huh. Why, is that important for the disinvitation spell?"   
  
Wesley looked at her intently.   
  
"You live there. Since you moved in, he hasn't been invited. You don't need me." He exhaled, and closed the book.   
  
"Really? That's, like, enough? I've only been there a few hours."   
  
"Do you feel at home?"   
  
Cordelia's eyes flicked to the window, the walls, and back.   
  
"Yes," she replied, certainty in her voice.   
  
"Then he can't come in."   
  
Her eyes closed, relief etched on her features.   
  
"Cordelia, is he fixating on you?"   
  
She opened her eyes again, and held out the card.   
  
"I found this with Connor's body."   
  
Wesley took his glasses from the coffee table and placed them on his eyes.   
  
"My God," he said, reading. "In that case, you are safe, for a time at least."   
  
"Safe?"   
  
"He won't touch you until everyone else is dead. Fred, Gunn, and me."   
  
Cordelia leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed again. Her face was blank. It was too much.   
  
"Cordelia," said Wesley, moving towards her holding out a hand. "Sit down, please."   
  
Cordelia took his arm and sat down on the couch. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and held her face in her hands. Wesley placed a comforting hand on her back.   
  
"What happened, Cordy?" he said. "How did Angelus get free?"   
  
"I don't know." Her voice was muffled through her hands.   
  
"Tell me what happened. How did you find Connor?"   
  
Cordelia took a deep breath, lowering her hands.   
  
"I walked into the lobby this morning, and there he was, on the couch, with a rose, and the card."   
  
"I see." Wesley paused, and glanced again at the card. "What does he mean by 'last night went as I dared hope'?"   
  
Cordelia's face crumpled. Stifled sobs wracked her body.   
  
"Oh God, Wesley," she whispered, looking away from him.   
  
"Cordelia, whatever it is, I need to know, if we're going to face him together." He took her into a half-embrace. "Tell me."   
  
She looked at him, her eyes wet, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.   
  
"Don't tell Fred and Gunn. I'm so… oh Wesley, I'm so ashamed."   
  
"Cordelia! What is it?"   
  
"He came over to my apartment last night. I thought it was Angel. He – we – Wesley, I thought it was Angel!"   
  
Realization dawned on Wesley's face.   
  
"Oh my God. Cordelia. I'm so sorry."   
  
"How could I not know, Wesley? How could I not?"   
  
"Was it… like with Buffy?"   
  
"No. He must have killed Connor before, which meant he was Angelus all the time." Cordelia again covered her face.   
  
"Then, what set him free?"   
  
Cordelia shook her head, her voice too close to tears.   
  
"Perhaps it was something to do with Connor, since he was the only one there."   
  
"Maybe," said Cordelia, regaining control. "Wesley, pack. You have to come back to the Hyperion. If what you say is true, then it's the only safe place for you right now."   
  
"You're right." He stood.   
  
"And Wesley," she said, her voice soft. "We need you."   
  
Wesley looked at her, a small but heartfelt smile on his face.   
  
"I'll be ready straight away." He left the room quickly.   
  
"One more thing," called Cordelia.   
  
"What's that?" came his voice from the next room.   
  
"You dump that bitch pronto!"   
  
His face appeared in the doorway.   
  
"Consider it done," he said.   
  
  
  
Gunn and Fred had gone home, as safe in Gunn's place as they would be in the Hyperion. They would meet again at Connor's funeral the next day. For now, Wesley and Cordelia sat in the Hyperion lobby telling each other that they would be better off getting some rest.   
  
Neither could sleep.   
  
It was during this circular conversation that they saw him at the garden door, silhouetted against the moonlight outside.   
  
Cordelia glanced at Wesley.   
  
"Time to test that theory of yours," she said grimly.   
  
"Are you sure you should speak to him?" he replied, placing a warning hand on her arm.   
  
"Do you think he'll leave till I do?"   
  
Wesley sighed, acquiescing.   
  
She walked slowly to the door, and heard Wesley get to his feet behind her. She saw Angelus's eyes glowing a dull amber in the dark.   
  
She opened the door. Angelus ran his eyes over her appraisingly. Even under the shapeless clothes she wore, he could see her body, newly loved. He raised his hand, gingerly testing the barrier.   
  
"Cordelia," he said. "I'm touched. My home is your home." He smiled.   
  
"It's not your home. It's Angel's home."   
  
"Angel, right." Angelus took a slow breath. "It's fine. I like your apartment. It reminds me of you, and our night together."   
  
Cordelia winced.   
  
"What, you don't like thinking about it?" Angelus laughed. "I still smell us on the sheets. Do you know how much he used to love the smell of your sheets?"   
  
Cordelia's face turned to stone.   
  
"Leave him out of this."   
  
"I can't do that. I am him. But he's not me." Angelus rubbed his chin. "I guess that's his one flaw."   
  
"Flaw? His one grace." He saw a softening in her eyes.   
  
"Really? You think so?" He leaned a shoulder nonchalantly against the barrier, studying his fingernails. They were perfect, as usual.   
  
"You disgust me," she said, her voice low and emotionless.   
  
"Now, Cordelia. That hurts." Angelus looked at her, turning again to face her. He placed the palms of his hands against the barrier. His shirt rose a little and he knew she could see his skin. She liked his skin. She had told him so.   
  
"Good," she said. He saw her eyes. They could not help flicking to his bared hip.   
  
"I know you," he said, his voice lazy. "I know what you crave. And I know that you secretly love it, in places you never knew existed till last night." His hands trailed over the barrier as if it were her skin. He saw her suppress a shudder. It was not a shudder of fear.   
  
"There is nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you that I could ever love." Cordelia's eyes were steel.   
  
"Look in his closet. Where did I find this silk shirt? Leather pants?" Her eyes travelled down his body. "Look in his hidden places. You'll find me there. And you love it. You love that I am the Scourge, I am the great Angelus, and that I made love to you."   
  
"You're sick!" she whispered hoarsely, raising her hand to slam the door.   
  
"I am," he said. "But I'm not wrong."   
  
He did not flinch as the door slammed in his face. He watched her walk away through the glass, knew she was waiting until she was out of sight to collapse, shaking, into the comforting arms of the Watcher.   
  
Then he turned and walked away. The smell of her made him hungry.   
  
  
TBC  
  
  



	3. The Seduction Continues

**Title:** Perfectly Happy Part 3 - The Seduction Continues  
**Author:** Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, et cetera.  
**Feedback:** Yes please.  
**A/N:** Set sometime after the end of Season 3. Thank you to everyone who reviewed – I hope this chapter is to your taste. Though Jasmine, I think this chapter should make it clear that I am certainly not a B/A shipper!  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
Cordelia looked at the papers strewn around her on the floor. There were many, some new, printed, some typewritten, aging, slightly yellow now, and some handwritten. Most were handwritten. In various styles, from a perfunctory, matter of fact script to flowing handwriting, liberally embellished with loops and curlicues.   
  
All referred to numerous properties in Europe owned and leased by one Angelus.   
  
Angelus had been into futures. Literally.   
  
She sat back against the bed, and stared at the empty drawers in the closet. She had never even noticed them before, and never would had Angelus not led her suspicions to search there. She had found them full of the documents that now carpeted the floor.   
  
And one more thing. Lying over the arm of his armchair. Prosaic, were it not for the inherent irony. Were it not for the fact that they were left for her to find.   
  
Leather pants.   
  
Cordelia almost laughed, looking at them. Could he have left a more obvious message? There they had lain, hidden in blue tissue paper. Angel had kept them. She could not fathom it. It made her stomach turn.   
  
She stood and walked to the door, opening it into the dully lit corridor.   
  
"Wesley!" she called. "Wes?"   
  
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, watched as he walked towards her, his face concerned.   
  
"Cordelia, are you alright?" he said.   
  
"You are not going to believe this," she replied.   
  
Wesley followed her into the room.   
  
"Good Lord," he said. "What's all this?"   
  
"Look." Cordelia held out some of the older papers.   
  
Wesley examined the documents, shuffling them in his hands as he read.   
  
"Good Lord," he breathed again, when he had finished. "And these others?" He looked around at the other papers.   
  
"All the same. All reports of the leasing and maintenance of properties in Europe."   
  
"Houses in Paris, London, Rome, Vienna, Dublin," read Wesley, as he knelt and shuffled through more letters.   
  
"Estates in Provençe, Lombardy, Ireland, Bavaria," continued Cordelia. "It all belongs to Angelus."   
  
"And Angel, one assumes?"   
  
"Yeah. But get this." Cordelia held out a carbon copy document. "Dated 1999. Look at the signature."   
  
Wesley took the page in his hand. His eyes opened in shock as he read.   
  
"It's the same on all of them. Here's one from a month ago."   
  
"I… I can't believe it." Wesley stood up and began to pace the room, his eyes darting over the sheaves of paper.   
  
"Me either. But there it is." Cordelia gestured to the papers in his hands. "He signed them all 'Angelus'".   
  
Wesley stared again at the signatures.   
  
"There must be a reason!" he exclaimed.   
  
"Sure there's a reason. Look at these bank statements. Nice discreet Swiss bank. He hasn't touched this money since 1898."   
  
"And yet he maintained the accounts, and continued to oversee the properties."   
  
"Right," said Cordelia. "He was prepared for this. For Angelus to return."   
  
"I did always wonder how he came by that mansion," Wesley said with a puzzled frown.   
  
Cordelia blew hair from her face, placing her hands on her hips.   
  
"Well, he's wealthy. I mean Bill Gates, David Nabbitt wealthy. He's had two hundred and fifty years to make a fortune. And he's back."   
  
Their eyes locked for one dramatic moment.   
  
Cordelia sighed.   
  
"How are Fred and Gunn holding up?"   
  
Wesley put down the papers and put his hands in his pockets.   
  
"Fred is still crying. She took it rather hard."   
  
"It was a good service."   
  
"Yes, Fr O'Neill spoke well."   
  
"It's so sad."   
  
Wesley looked at Cordelia. Her eyes remained dry, her face ashen.   
  
"Yes," he said softly. "It is."   
  
"Maybe we shouldn't tell Fred and Gunn about all this." She spread her hands over the mess of papers.   
  
"Better not," agreed Wesley. "What will we do with it?"   
  
Cordelia exhaled, a thoughtful frown on her face.   
  
"I don't know," she said.   
  
"No," said Wesley. "Well. Perhaps you should come down? I'll make tea."   
  
Cordelia smiled.   
  
"I missed you, Wes," she said.   
  
  
  
It was late. So late it would soon be early. Wesley, Fred and Gunn were all asleep in the Hyperion. Cordelia had made sure of it before making a sound. The documents were all in two boxes, placed carefully on the back seat of Angel's car. On the passenger seat, carefully folded, were the leather pants. Cordelia started the engine and pulled out.   
  
  
  
The lights were on in her apartment. She stopped at the kerb. Inhaled deeply.   
  
"Okay," she said, under her breath. "Let's do this."   
  
She got out of the car and hefted one of the boxes on to her hip. She left it by her door before returning to pick up the other. She placed it on top of the first, laid the leather pants on top of that, took another strengthening breath, then knocked on the door.   
  
She heard his footsteps come towards her.   
  
The door opened.   
  
He stood there, dressed in luxurious black, lit by the light of low lamps, a small fire, and candle flames all around the room.   
  
He smiled. She did not.   
  
"I brought these for you," she said, her hand flicking towards the boxes.   
  
"Thanks," he replied. He stood back from the door. "Come in."   
  
She walked past him, feeling him like a chill on her spine.   
  
He lifted the boxes and brought them inside the door.   
  
"Oh," he said, smiling and holding the pants. "You found them. Good."   
  
Cordelia simply stared as he put them down and came towards her. He stood, a mere pace from her, his face uncannily soft. The eyes were the only clue. Hard and black.   
  
"Wine?" he asked.   
  
Cordelia frowned fleetingly.   
  
"Sure," she said. She could hear the stress in her voice.   
  
Angelus tilted his head towards the sideboard. A bottle was left open to chambré, a single glass, large and round, standing beside it.   
  
Cordelia's eyes fell.   
  
"You knew I'd come," she said.   
  
"Yeah," he replied.   
  
"So I guess you know why."   
  
"I do." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. She flinched and pulled back. "Please," he said. "Sit."   
  
Cordelia sighed, exasperated.   
  
"Stop," she said, harshly.   
  
"Stop what?"   
  
"Stop pretending to be… nice."   
  
"I am perfectly nice," he replied, his voice molten chocolate. "I have had many years to hone my manners. Speaking of which." He turned to the sideboard and poured her a glass of deep red wine. "I believe it is a good vintage. I cannot taste such things."   
  
Cordelia took the glass. Her eyes were dark with suspicion.   
  
Angelus ignored it.   
  
"Please," he said again. "Sit down. It is, after all, your apartment."   
  
Cordelia sat on the couch.   
  
"I'll never think of this place as mine again."   
  
"No?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Because of me?"   
  
"Of course because of you."   
  
Angelus nodded, sitting on the edge of the armchair, which he had placed near the fire.   
  
"I guess I understand."   
  
"That's big of you." Cordelia looked around. "Is Dennis still here?"   
  
"Probably," replied Angelus. "He's been pretty quiet, though."   
  
"Must be the company." Cordelia sipped her wine.   
  
Angelus laughed.   
  
"Of course he would prefer such a beautiful young woman." His eyes were full of lust.   
  
Cordelia flushed. She tried to ignore it.   
  
"So," she said. "Tell me why I'm here."   
  
Angelus sat back, shimmering black against the creamy tones of her décor.   
  
"Today you discovered that there was far more of me in that souled creature than you had ever imagined. You have a faint, twinkling hope that you will curse me again. You know he will never tell you about me. So you want to" – he laughed – "get to know me, before I become Angel again."   
  
"You don't think we can curse you again?"   
  
"I think if you can find a single Orb of Thesulah anywhere between here and Romania, you will deserve to curse me."   
  
"Pfft!" said Cordelia. "You can get Orbs of Thesulah anywhere! They're sold as paperweights!"   
  
"But you don't have one."   
  
"No," she conceded.   
  
"Ask your Watcher why."   
  
Cordelia eyed him, but let it pass.   
  
"How were you freed?" she asked.   
  
"The usual. Moment of perfect happiness," he said with scorn.   
  
"What happened?"   
  
"The kid. Told me he had finally come to think of me as his father. Told me he loved me."   
  
"And then you killed him."   
  
Angelus looked her in the eye.   
  
"He killed Darla."   
  
"Darla killed herself."   
  
"Because of him, and his soul," he spat. "I would rather have Darla for one night than a son for a lifetime."   
  
"You once killed Darla." Cordelia's voice was level, all tremors of fear and nervousness gone.   
  
"You think I don't think of that every day?"   
  
"Do you?"   
  
"I killed my sire. Do you understand that?" He looked intently at her. "My mother, my lover. I owed her everything, and I killed her." He looked away, staring blackly into the fire.   
  
"Don't even pretend you actually care about Darla," replied Cordelia, her voice harsh. "You can't."   
  
Angelus inhaled sharply.   
  
"So the Soul would have you believe."   
  
"I believe Angel sooner than I believe you."   
  
"Really. Did he mention the clothes? The accounts he quietly took care of, the properties he oversaw?"   
  
Cordelia jutted her jaw, but remained silent.   
  
"No," continued Angelus. "And there's so much more he didn't tell you, Cordelia. Things that I want you to know. We are not so different, Angel and I. Do you want to know these things?"   
  
"Well, I'm thinking Mr. Loves-the-sound-of-his-own-voice won't shut up till he tells me anyway, so –"   
  
He cut her off.   
  
"Cordelia," he said. "Do you want to know?"   
  
She sighed, and sat back. She took a sip of wine, her eyes fixed on him over the rim of the glass.   
  
"Yes," she said finally. "I do."   
  
"Why? Did your pet Watcher tell you to find out as much as you can?"   
  
Again she regarded him, thinking things he could not see.   
  
She shook her head.   
  
"No," she said, her voice quiet. "I want to know."   
  
Angelus smiled slowly, perhaps something other than his usual hard smile.   
  
Cordelia took another sip of wine.   
  
"The first thing you should know is how alluring you are to me."   
  
Angelus could see her muscles tense, but her breathing remained calm.   
  
"When I say me, I mean both the Soul and I. He found you intoxicating. He tried to convince himself it was love. Maybe it is. In my long life, sometimes I still cannot be sure."   
  
"You can't love without a soul."   
  
"Yes you can. Don't believe the lies the Watcher's Council spawns, and that my alter ego perpetuates. I did not stay with Darla for one hundred and fifty years without feeling a love more intense than any human can ever know. Simply because love grows with time, and I have more of it."   
  
"And yet you killed her."   
  
"In that moment, I saw Buffy as my… salvation." He spat the word. "So I killed her. Darla. Soul or no soul, I have never forgiven myself for that, and never will. That is what I mean when I say I cannot be sure what love is. Is it Darla? Always. Buffy? I thought so once, but now, I am not so sure. And now you. Such a confusion of love…" His voice trailed away, growing wistful.   
  
Cordelia looked at him sharply through narrowed eyes.   
  
"And you thought that Connor's dead body was the gift every girl wants? Here's a tip. Next time? Think Tiffany's."   
  
"I told you. I killed him because he killed Darla. As I would kill anyone who caused harm to you."   
  
"I thought you were going to kill me?"   
  
"When did I say that?"   
  
"You didn't. I guess." Cordelia looked confused. "You wanted to kill Buffy."   
  
"Buffy is a Slayer. Do you know I've never killed a Slayer? Played with them, sure, but never killed." Angelus looked contemplative. "And young William has two to his name."   
  
Cordelia's mouth twisted with distaste.   
  
"It's just a game to you."   
  
Angelus was comfortably seated in his armchair, almost slouched, if such a leonine figure can be said to do such an ungraceful thing. He leaned an elbow on the arm and propped his head in his paw-like hand. He smiled a lazy smile.   
  
"Of course." He tilted his head. The expression in his eyes might almost have been mistaken for fondness. "And I do want to kill you."   
  
"Well, there goes my relief."   
  
"That morning, it was all I could do to stop myself. You looked so delectable, lying there in bed beside me, under me…"   
  
"Don't." It was not an entreaty.   
  
Angelus ran his eyes over Cordelia's body. Her shoes lay neatly on the floor where she sat, and her bare feet were curled under her as she reclined against the arm of the couch, wineglass in hand.   
  
So much for never being at home here again.   
  
"I want to. But I won't. You are far too interesting to kill."   
  
"Until you lose interest."   
  
"Of course."   
  
"Well," said Cordelia. "It's lucky I'm such an interesting person." She gave him her brightest smile.   
  
"Indeed," he said. "Enough of this talk of death. No one knows when they will be taken, and you are no different."   
  
"Wesley, Fred and Gunn?"   
  
"Pawns."   
  
"Or not."   
  
"Can I get you more wine?"   
  
"No thanks, I'm good."   
  
"Sure?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
Angelus nodded.   
  
Cordelia looked around. Nothing had changed much in the time since it had been her apartment.   
  
"It feels like a lot more than two days."   
  
"A lot has happened."   
  
"Do you still want to kill Buffy?" she asked suddenly.   
  
"No, not really," he replied gently. "Only insofar as she is the Slayer. Nothing more. Perhaps I should leave her to William."   
  
"From what I hear, he's quite enjoying her."   
  
"Really?" Angelus laughed. "You never told me that before."   
  
"I cared how you felt before."   
  
"You worried that I'd care before," he corrected. "He always had a thing for Slayers, my William."   
  
"More original than having a thing for blondes."   
  
"Touché." Angelus smiled. "Why did you decide to go back to your beautiful natural mahogany?"   
  
Cordelia faltered.   
  
"I wanted to be sure," she said, "that it was more than the hair. With Angel."   
  
Angelus laughed again.   
  
"Oh, Cordelia! Even now you doubt your power over me!"   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Power. Over me."   
  
Angelus gazed at her. She stared back, stunned.   
  
"And now," he continued. "I hate to appear rude, my Cordelia, but there is little time left till dawn, and I am hungry. You can stay here or return to the Hyperion. Whichever you wish."   
  
"Hyperion," said Cordelia quietly, still taken aback.   
  
"Thank you again for my documents. And my favourite pants." Angelus stood, holding out a hand to help her up. Without thinking, she took it. He stood close to her for a heartbeat, before turning away and leading her to the door.   
  
"I will see you again soon?" he asked, holding her hand in his.   
  
"Is there a choice?"   
  
"There is always a choice." Angelus kissed her hand, his lips lingering on her skin just long enough to heat her cheeks. "Just as there are always consequences."   
  
"Then I guess it's up to you," she replied.   
  
"See you soon, then. I have much more to tell you."   
  
He let her hand fall, and closed the door gently. She remained for a moment staring at the wood before turning and walking to the car.   
  
Just as she pulled away from the kerb she saw him leaving, clad in black, coat billowing gently as he adjusted the collar.   
  
Some things never changed.   
  
  
  
TBC.   
  



	4. Character Death

**Title:** Perfectly Happy, Part 4 - - Character Death  
**Author:** Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing:** Angelus/Cordelia  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, et cetera.  
**Distribution:** Shippers United, The Crypt. Others, just let me know.  
**Feedback:** Yes please. Thanks to all who have already reviewed and mailed me - support is greatly appreciated.  
**A/N:** Set sometime after the end of Season 3. Vague spoilers only.  
  
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She woke up late, the sun streaming through the window. Slowly spiralling dust glowed in the golden light. She stretched, yawned, and folded back the covers. Sounds wandered up from below, voices, wooden thuds, heavy clinking metal.   
  
Showered and dressed, she made her way downstairs. The lobby had taken on the aspect of a medieval arsenal. Fred and Gunn busily oiled and polished every axe, sword, knife and crossbow, while Wesley sat at the reception desk watching them with a concentratedly disapproving air.   
  
Gunn looked up as she entered.   
  
"Hey, Cordelia," he said. "Tell English here why it's time to stake our boss."   
  
Wesley sighed, exasperated. The argument had obviously been going on for some time.   
  
"Cordelia," said Wesley, pouring her a cup of coffee. "It is possible that we could curse him again. We shouldn't simply rush into this."   
  
Fred looked up, horrified.   
  
"He killed Connor!" she said hoarsely.   
  
"Angelus killed Connor. It's possible that we can bring Angel back. Surely that's the same as killing Angelus, without destroying Angel, too?"   
  
Cordelia tasted her coffee. She put in more sugar.   
  
"But you said there was no Orbs of Whatever around to curse him with," said Gunn.   
  
"There aren't. But there are people I can call, leads I can follow up. I beg of you to wait until I do before you rush off and do something rash."   
  
"Rash? Like staking the psycho vampire wearing our boss's face who wants to kill us?"   
  
"Do you really think you are prepared to fight Angelus?" Wesley faced Gunn, his voice deadly serious. "Gunn, I know you have more field experience than almost any Watcher I know, perhaps you're almost up to Slayer levels, but you have no idea what you're dealing with here! A master vampire is very different from the minions you have spent your life fighting. And as masters go, you can't get more evil or malevolent than Angelus."   
  
"All the more reason to take him out now, before he gets comfortable and starts snacking on the locals!" Gunn brandished a crossbow as he spoke.   
  
"You're not listening to me!" Wesley paced the room, frustrated. "It is highly unlikely you would succeed in killing Angelus. He is more likely to end up snacking on you!" Wesley paused for a moment. "In fact, he is more likely to torture you until he lets you die in extreme pain."   
  
Gunn shook his head, a humourless laugh escaping his lips. He glanced around at Fred. She held his gaze, before looking at Cordelia.   
  
"I think Angel'd want us to stake him," said Fred quietly. "What do you think?"   
  
Cordelia sipped her coffee thoughtfully. She sighed.   
  
"I agree with Wes," she said finally.   
  
"You what?" shouted Gunn, spinning to face her.   
  
"I agree with Wesley," she repeated. "If it's possible to curse him again, then that's what we should do."   
  
"And while we all are figuring out how we're gonna do that with no magic orb, he's out there killing people."   
  
"Maybe Angel does more good than Angelus does bad," said Cordelia quietly.   
  
"Yes," agreed Wesley. "Think of all the people he has helped, the apocalypses he has averted."   
  
"The apocalypse he nearly caused, or that one slip your suddenly selective mind, English?"   
  
"'Nearly' being the operative word," countered Wesley. "Anyway, this is a moot point! The fact is, without questioning for a moment your prowess with an axe, you simply do not have the capabilities to kill Angelus! We need a Slayer, and with Faith in prison and Buffy constantly required on the Hellmouth, we don't have one. Which means cursing him is our only hope."   
  
"You finished your Princess Leia routine? 'Cause I got another hope. We sneak up on him quietly, we hit him with as much force as we got, and hey! Bring the Dustbuster, we're gonna need it."   
  
Wesley began to laugh. Gunn's face became thunderous.   
  
"You think you can sneak up on a master vampire!" Wesley stifled his laughter, shaking his head. "You simply have no concept of what Angelus is. Believe me when I say that if you go after him you will get yourself and anyone who goes with you killed. I for one am staying here, and will find an Orb of Thesulah or die trying." He was not laughing anymore.   
  
"I'm with Wesley," said Cordelia.   
  
Gunn stared at them, shocked.   
  
"Fine," he said. "Fine. While you guys call your people or whatever, I'm gonna try to actually do something." He turned, crossbow in hand. "Fred?"   
  
Fred looked sadly at Wesley and Cordelia.   
  
"I'm with Charles," she said.   
  
"Fred, you'll die." Wesley's voice allowed no argument.   
  
"I'm with Charles," she repeated. Gunn nodded, and took her arm as they walked out of the hotel.   
  
Cordelia and Wesley watched them leave.   
  
"They're going to die," said Wesley.   
  
"Probably," replied Cordelia.   
  
"We can't stop them."   
  
"No."   
  
Wesley turned back to the reception desk, resting his elbows on it as he rubbed his eyes. Cordelia turned to him.   
  
"So, what do I not know about Orbs of Thesulah? I thought you couldn't swing a Romanian cat without hitting one."   
  
Wesley shook his head.   
  
"No," he said. His voice sounded constricted. "A few years ago there were plenty, but not now. The magicks used to create them only erupt into this world once every ten, twenty, maybe even thirty years. When they appear, the gypsy craftspeople can harness them. But the flow that was used to make the orb Willow used four years ago to curse Angelus has since dried up, and so there will be no more for a decade at least, if not three."   
  
"Oh," replied Cordelia. She bit her lip. "But you said there were people you could call?"   
  
Wesley turned to face her.   
  
"I'm afraid I rather exaggerated the likelihood of finding one, in order to stop Gunn rushing off and… well, to stop him doing what he's just done." He sighed heavily. "But there are people I can call. I should think the best place to start is Rupert Giles."   
  
"You call him, then."   
  
"What are you going to do?"   
  
"I'm going to follow Fred and Gunn. You said I'm safe till everyone else is dead." She shrugged hopelessly. "Maybe I can do something, distract him or something."   
  
"I think that plan is quite as flawed as Gunn's."   
  
"Well, you can't stop me either."   
  
"So I sit around till you're all dead?"   
  
"Wesley, I'm going. You're staying and calling Giles. It's the best we can do right now." She looked softly into his eyes. "Oh, Wes," she sighed. "This is so hard."   
  
"I know, Cordy. I know," he whispered in reply, as he took her into his arms and held her tightly.   
  
  
  
Gunn cocked his crossbow in the twilight. Fred grasped a stake tightly in her hand. They waited, hidden outside Cordelia's apartment as the sun sank below the horizon.   
  
Cordelia watched from a corner nearby. Neither Gunn nor Fred had noticed her. Her black clothes would soon fade into the night.   
  
As would his. The glow of sunset had barely left the western sky when he emerged, leather pants now donned and fitting to perfection. He raised his head into the air, inhaling deeply. Glancing around, and seemingly noticing nothing, he set off into the night.   
  
Gunn and Fred were soon on his trail, and Cordelia on theirs. Had her entire body not been twisted in fear she would have found the situation comical, the stuff of farce. But this was far from farce. It was life and death.   
  
He walked with swift determination. He faced the breeze, so Gunn and Fred found it easy to stay downwind. Cordelia watched him as he passed people on the street, his glance flicking over them as he rejected them and moved on. She studied those he passed by. There was no pattern; they were of various ages, races, social backgrounds. What was he looking for?   
  
Their surroundings had changed, and gloomy alleyways branched off the boulevard. He stalked on, melting into shadows, his body tensed and poised for the hunt. Fred and Gunn hurried after him, his lack of suspicion encouraging them to greater fearlessness. They scurried through pools of streetlight in his tracks, eyes bright, skin shining with sweat. Weapons at the ready. Cordelia followed as close behind as she dared.   
  
Suddenly he disappeared. The shadows simply swallowed him. Gunn and Fred slowed, then came to a halt. Cordelia squinted into the darkness. He simply was not there. She watched as Gunn inched forward, a protective hand holding Fred behind him. Her nerves screamed as her body froze. The black mouth of an alley gaped through the gloom. She needed no visions from above to see what would happen next. She opened her mouth to scream, to warn him, but no sound came.   
  
And then he was gone. Cordelia watched Fred freeze in horror, then slowly creep along by the wall until she reached the mouth of the alleyway. She peered in, apparently seeing nothing.   
  
"Charles?" she called, her voice a reedy whisper. She took a tentative step into the darkness. "Charles?" she said again.   
  
"No," whispered Cordelia. Her voice caught in her throat. She ran.   
  
Before her eyes adjusted she heard muffled cries. Then she saw him, pale face appearing in the gloam, his arm clamped around a vainly struggling Fred. Gunn was penned into the end of the alley, no way past Angelus without coming inside his reach. His crossbow lay uselessly broken on the wet ground. Fred's stake had rolled against the wall.   
  
Angelus turned to face Gunn.   
  
"Did you think for one minute," he said, his voice mocking and arrogant, "that I wouldn't see you? That I couldn't smell your mortal stench? Who do you think you're playing with, boy?"   
  
Gunn remained silent, his eyes riveted on Fred's face, blotchy with tears and struggle.   
  
"Cordelia," continued Angelus, without looking behind. "You knew I'd know you were there. What was the plan? Distract me then have this kid stake me? Huh?" He turned to face her. "I expected more, Cordelia. From you."   
  
She shook her head.   
  
She saw Gunn move, take a tentative step forward as Angelus kept his back turned.   
  
"No," she coughed. "No, that wasn't the plan…"   
  
Her eyes flicked towards Gunn as he bent to the ground to pick up his fallen crossbow bolt.   
  
"Let go of Fred," she continued.   
  
"And miss all this fear?" Angelus laughed. "Not gonna happen! Lovely, betrayed blood. Huh, Fred? Your knight is gonna kill you. Drain you till you drop." He nuzzled her neck. Her muffled screams filled Cordelia's ears.   
  
Angelus raised his face to her again. She stared at him, resolutely ignoring Gunn creeping along the damp concrete floor of the alley, bolt raised in his fist. Her horrified gaze remained on the concentrated shadows where black eyes glinted coldly under a heavy brow. Gunn continued to inch forward, Fred's screams muffling his footsteps. He was within an arms length when Angelus whirled and struck him a ferocious backhand to the side of the head. Gunn sailed through the air, hitting against the wall and landing on the ground beneath, limp as a rag doll. Blood flowed from a gash on his forehead.   
  
Cordelia covered her mouth as she cried out. Fred's eyes strained to see Gunn lying unconscious on the cold ground. Angelus laughed.   
  
"Your beautiful eyes, Cordelia," he said. "I can see everything when I look into your eyes."   
  
"Angel! Angelus. Don't do this!" Her voice was full of panic.   
  
"Don't do what? Kill the girl? Cordelia, you don't seem to get what I'm trying to show you here."   
  
"So draw me a diagram!"   
  
"He wants to do these things all the time." He jerked Fred tighter to his body, her arm twisted behind her back. "The only, only difference between him and me is that I do them."   
  
"I believe you! Let her go!"   
  
Angelus shook his head and morphed with a growl. Fred renewed her futile struggle, kicking him pathetically as he snarled in her ear.   
  
"So naïve and innocent," he chuckled. "It's a long time since I've had anyone so sweet."   
  
Cordelia rushed towards him, blindly flinging herself at him in a final effort to save Fred. He thrust out an arm and caught her, holding her throat, forcing her to watch as he sank his fangs into Fred's neck and began to drink, taking long, luxurious swallows, sucking, pulling, draining her blood in measured, even draws. Fred's struggle died, her eyes rolling back in her head. He uncovered her mouth and allowed her moan indistinctly as he drained the life from her veins. His hand held her to him like a lover as she exhaled for the last time. He let her body drop.   
  
Cordelia crumpled as he allowed her collapse next to the dead girl. His fingers left bruises on her throat. Fierce sobs wracked Cordelia's body as she gently caressed Fred's face. She ran her fingers over her eyelids, closing them. Her expression was absurdly peaceful.   
  
Cordelia looked to Gunn. He still lay unconscious against the wall. Suddenly Angelus was upon her, hauling her to her feet. He held her face in his hands, a breath away from his demonic visage.   
  
"You see, Cordelia?" he snarled. "You said you wanted to know. Are you beginning to learn who exactly it is that you love?"   
  
She could smell Fred's blood on his breath. She twisted back from his face, grasping his hands with hers to wrench them away. She failed; his grip was like steel.   
  
"Aw, Cordy! Cordy baby! I make sweet love to you with Connor's blood filling my veins and now you're all squeamish? She tasted so good!"   
  
It took less than a thought for Cordelia to clamp her jaws shut, as he assaulted her with his mouth, still red with blood and saliva. She strove to free herself, to get away from that fanged, monstrous face, filled with glee as she struggled in vain. He pulled back. She could feel her skin slick with blood, the coppery tang finding its way into her protesting mouth.   
  
He laughed as he let her go. His face returned to its human aspect.   
  
"Well, it's been fun, but gotta blaze." He passed her, his eyes constantly upon her, as he left the alleyway. She heard his footsteps fade as he disappeared into the night beyond.   
  
She was alone.   
  
She looked once more at Fred. Her face was still soft. It would be many hours before her skin would take on the waxy pallor of death. Gunn breathed shallowly, slouched against the wall. His forehead had stopped bleeding.   
  
Cordelia moved to him and knelt down.   
  
"Gunn," she said, holding his face. "Gunn, wake up." No response.   
  
Cordelia's face crumpled as tears began to flow down her haggard cheeks.   
  
"Gunn! Please wake up!" she whispered frantically. Again, nothing.   
  
She reached a searching hand into his jacket pocket and drew out his cellphone. She called the Hyperion, trying to stifle her sobs.   
  
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless," came the familiar voice down the phone.   
  
"Wesley!" she said. "Right now, that's us."   
  
  
  
By the time Wesley arrived, Gunn had regained consciousness. He tenderly held Fred's body in the back of the car as they brought her to the morgue in silence.   
  
  
  



	5. What the Seer Saw

** Title:** Perfectly Happy, Part 5 - - What the Seer Saw  
**Author:** Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com  
**Rating: **R  
**Warning: **Rape scene, though not explicit.  
**Pairing: **Angelus/Cordelia  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, et cetera.  
**Distribution:** Shippers United, The Crypt, Sinner and Seer. Others, just let me know.  
**Feedback: **Yes please. Thanks to all who have already reviewed and mailed me - support is greatly appreciated.  
**A/N:** Set sometime after the end of Season 3. Vague spoilers only.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________   
  
Sheets like milk. She kicked and turned in her sleep, sweat-soaked cotton.   
  
Skin like honey. He stalked and fed, concrete spattered with hurried blood.   
  
She dreamt his name, he drank her. She flowed through atrophied veins, vibrant red. Bubbles of oxygen. He pumped through thick arteries, tingling her fingertips.   
  
Fred was dead. Laid beside Connor, cold in the ground. Cordelia screamed when she dreamed those innocent faces crumpled in dark earth. The Hyperion echoed with grief.   
  
Angelus heard her as he melted into its shadows. The courtyard, still pretty, night-blooming jasmine. Moon gaping down, bright as ill-remembered day. Colour. He remembered colour. Bleached night.   
  
Catlike leaps and he was on her balcony. Her breathing, that heartbeat. Softly whispering flesh-wrapped soul. Three syllables; his name. Fingertips to windowpane, head tilted, he felt her.   
  
She dreamt him there. Skin white as the rugged moon. Face like an angel.   
  
  
  
He closed the door on the lethal colour spreading like infection over his star-speckled sky. Slammed it behind him. Walked to the fireplace, placed his hands on the mantelpiece, and stared into the ashes.   
  
He loved fires.   
  
He flung his coat into the corner. Paced about the room. Her smell had pervaded every fabric, every texture. He could not wash her taste out of his mouth. Did not really want to. And he had not even tasted her blood. All this time and never a drop. Never a proffered wrist, never a bared jugular, not even as she lay under him that night.   
  
He refused to force her. Refused to take it unless she held it out to him. And she would.   
  
He threw himself on the couch, reclining lazily, running a paw over his face.   
  
She would.   
  
  
  
She flung the doors open wide, sunlight finally warming her clammy skin. The balcony basked in light. Not a haunt for creatures of the night. And yet not even the blazing sun could burn every trace of him away.   
  
Somewhere Gunn cowered in guilt. Wesley shuffled through the morning, sipping tea and fumbling hot toast. Paper spread on the reception desk, scanning obituaries.   
  
Cordelia breathed. Shook her head. Dreams and visions, they were all one now.   
  
  
  
Wesley replaced the receiver as she entered the lobby.   
  
"Anything?" she asked.   
  
He shook his head.   
  
"Giles and Anya have tried every source and connection. A few possibilities, perhaps, but…" His voice faded to a sigh. "Have you seen Gunn?"   
  
"He won't come out."   
  
"Has he eaten?"   
  
"No."   
  
She watched Wesley watch her. She drew her arms around her body.   
  
"Are you alright?" The tenderness in his eyes warmed her.   
  
She shrugged.   
  
"I'm fine, given everything," she said. "I just want… I want this over."   
  
Wesley nodded.   
  
"We all do," he said. "We'll find an orb, Cordelia. We will."   
  
  
  
Angelus held the receiver to his ear, listening. His eyes scanned over the documents scattered across the table.   
  
"Bring any you find to Vienna. Keep them there.   
  
"Yes, there may be other interest. Be sure they find nothing.   
  
"I have faith in you. Take care I have no reason to question that faith. If there is an orb left in Europe, it will be mine."   
  
He smiled in satisfaction as the line went dead.   
  
  
  
"What about you? Are you okay?" she asked, walking around the desk and closing her arms around him.   
  
Wesley took a deep breath. She heard it catch in his lungs.   
  
"We could have done more to stop them," he said.   
  
Cordelia sighed.   
  
"No we couldn't, Wes. You know Gunn. Not the patient type."   
  
"But Fred… He didn't have to bring Fred."   
  
Cordelia held him more tightly.   
  
"Poor Fred," she murmured. "But she chose to go, Wes. It's not your fault."   
  
"She's right, English," came a cracked voice from the staircase. "It's mine."   
  
Gunn looked broken. His eyes were dull as lead.   
  
"Guess you were right," he continued. "Didn't know what I was doing. Got her killed. Like I got Rondell and Alonna killed."   
  
Cordelia came towards him. He backed away.   
  
"Gunn…" she said.   
  
"It's fine, Cordy. I know what I've got to do."   
  
He looked at them both, a whisper of a smile on his mouth. Then he turned towards the door.   
  
"No, wait, Gunn," began Cordelia.   
  
He turned.   
  
"I've gotta go, Cordelia! Before I get everyone killed. And I need some time. I'll be back. In a while."   
  
"Let him go, Cordelia."   
  
Gunn looked at Wesley.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.   
  
Wesley merely nodded a fraction in reply.   
  
Cordelia stood staring from one to the other, her face pained.   
  
"I'll see y'all."   
  
And again he was gone.   
  
  
  
He lay back on her bed, her sheets caressing his naked body.   
  
The boy next, maybe. He'd put up some fight. Then the Watcher, nice and slow. Till there was no one left for her but a memory. A memory with his face. With his dead heart.   
  
  
  
She stood still, waiting.   
  
His office was empty. New dust had settled on shiny surfaces. Everything compulsively neat; pens, letter opener, files. Dark, rich colours, his natural backdrop. Subtle opulence. His very surroundings a contradiction.   
  
He was not there.   
  
Wesley's voice drifted in from the lobby, that defensive yet deferential tone he used when forced to deal with the Council. Absolutely essential, Orb of Thesulah, a good vampire.   
  
They found the idea absurd. They were right.   
  
  
  
Angelus laughed softly. Of course it was absurd. She was beginning to learn. He purred and stretched, pulling sheets closely around him. His smile flickered as his breathing faded. His chest ceased its automatic rise and fall. Slept the sleep of the dead.   
  
  
  
She shook her head again. He would not get out. Like flicking channels too late at night.   
  
She took her jacket and wrapped it around her. It was warm, but she felt cold.   
  
"Going out?" asked Wesley.   
  
"I'll be back before dark," she said, heading out into the sunshine.   
  
  
  
Familiar sun-baked plaster and palm trees. Trailed fingertips over rough walls, heat seeping into her blood. No sound from within. The silence of the tomb.   
  
A chink in north-facing curtains. He lay spread across her sheets, creamy pale. Not a stir nor a breath. His mouth a dark gash between bled lips. She shut her eyes on him, opened them again. Killer. Remembered the scent of blood on useless breath. Borrowed life.   
  
He moved in his sleep, startling her; an animated corpse. Saw his lips move, but could not hear what he was saying. His eyes still closed, translucent lids hiding the blackness within.   
  
Nothing was his. Borrowed blood, borrowed soul. What was left?   
  
A hungry corpse on a bed.   
  
  
  
His eyes snapped open, but she was gone. Twilight softening the harsh light of day. A shadow where she had been. He had called her but she had not heard him. She would not have come anyway. Not yet.   
  
He flicked back the sheets and stretched. Nearly time to hunt again, to stalk the streets to find some unwitting girl, flattered to be noticed by such handsome eyes.   
  
It was so hard to be patient. He would have to be cruel.   
  
  
  
"Anything?" she asked as she walked in the door.   
  
"Not yet." He shook his head. "I should think this will take some time."   
  
"So I should stop asking, huh?" she said with a gentle smile.   
  
He smiled in reply.   
  
"Cordelia," he said, standing and coming around the desk. "I may have to go to England. Should the Council have an orb, and – even less likely – allow us to use it, they can't FedEx it."   
  
"But you don't know that they have one, right?" She took of her jacket and laid it on the arm of the couch.   
  
"No. You know the Council. Yards of red tape only to be refused at the end of it all."   
  
"Gotta love that stuffy Britishness."   
  
"Quite," laughed Wesley quietly. "Where did you go this afternoon?"   
  
"Just for a walk," she said breezily. "Needed some air. Are you hungry? Should we order pizza?"   
  
Wesley looked at her for a moment.   
  
"Yes, pizza would be good," he replied.   
  
Cordelia went to the phone.   
  
  
  
The west still glowed when he left the apartment. It stung his eyes slightly, but he did not care. He hugged the walls as he walked and avoided the light. Somewhere glittering tonight, with fresh-faced young starlets. There was no shortage of parties in this town.   
  
He wanted a limousine. With dark windows. He would call someone in the morning.   
  
  
  
The pizza box lay empty on the table. Cordelia licked her fingers as Wesley popped the last pepperoni into his mouth.   
  
They heard a knock at the door.   
  
"Am I interrupting? You two look so cosy."   
  
Cordelia and Wesley froze.   
  
"Should I be jealous, Wesley? You don't call, you don't write, now I find you here with another woman?"   
  
"Lilah."   
  
If words could kill, he would have killed her with her name.   
  
"Don't get up, I won't stay long."   
  
"Well, that's good news," he said, his voice harsh with sarcasm.   
  
"I heard a rumour. Can you guess what it is?"   
  
Cordelia crossed her arms, her eyes glittering with antipathy.   
  
"I heard that Angelus was back."   
  
She watched them intently. They registered not a flicker of reaction.   
  
She casually took a seat across from them.   
  
"I see the rumour was right." She smiled. "And so it's also true that he killed his brat son, and then your sweet little scientist?"   
  
Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.   
  
"Again, accurate," continued Lilah. "Our sources are working overtime."   
  
"Just get out," said Cordelia.   
  
"Not quite yet. There's one thing we don't know. What is he preparing in Europe?"   
  
Wesley and Cordelia merely stared.   
  
"Old law firms in Europe tend to be aggravatingly discreet. You can't even buy information. Do you know what he's planning?"   
  
Wesley's eyes narrowed.   
  
"No," he replied curtly. "Will you leave now?" He stood, a threatening figure.   
  
Lilah laughed, standing also.   
  
"Okay, I'll leave! Knowing that you don't know is at least something." She tucked her handbag under her arm. "Wesley, you are getting more handsome every year," she said, scraping a red nail over his stubble.   
  
She turned and walked away, the click of her heels echoing in the lobby.   
  
"Cordelia," said Wesley, still looking at the doorway.   
  
"Mmm?" she replied, distracted.   
  
"Where are those documents you found? I think now would be a good time to go through them more thoroughly."   
  
  
  
Why was it, he wondered, that he could barely taste champagne from a glass, but could thoroughly enjoy its spine-tingling effects when drunk straight from the bloodstream? He felt it fizzle in his belly and laughed. Two dewy-eyed, petite blondes lay beside him, one on each side. Well, one was dewy-eyed. The other was glassy-eyed, and dead.   
  
"Where are you going?" he said to the first. "We're just getting started!"   
  
He clamped a hand over her mouth.   
  
"Aw, sweetheart," he said. "It's not you. It's me." He forced her under him. "Don't worry. I'm gonna take a lot more time with you. You know, you remind me of an old girlfriend." He sounded almost wistful.   
  
Music blared downstairs. It was quite the party. Even if they had heard her screams, they would not have cared. Sometimes it sounded like pleasure.   
  
  
  
Cordelia quietly thanked anyone listening that she had thought to make photocopies.   
  
"You're probably right," said Wesley. "Best keep the originals secure."   
  
They cleared a space on the floor of the lobby. The door was now locked.   
  
"Okay," said Cordelia. "A different pile for each place, and order the letters by date."   
  
"Right," replied Wesley. He looked at the huge pile of papers and sighed. "Let's get to it."   
  
Cordelia glanced at him.   
  
"Filing," she said. "Even at the worst of times we can't get away from filing."   
  
They smiled wryly at each other, and began to sort through the documents.   
  
  
  
Angelus shrugged on his shirt. His face was spattered with blood. As was the room. But a frown marred his face.   
  
Slaughter. It was supposed to make him happy.   
  
She was beautiful, and small, and blond, and there had been a very satisfying crack when he had finally snapped her neck. She had screamed exquisitely as he ripped up inside her, violating her in the vilest ways he could imagine, forcing her into soul-destroying submission. She had begged him to kill her in the end. Not because of the pain, but from sheer humiliation. To be so bestially abused, and to feel pleasure. It was artful.   
  
Why, then, was he not skipping gleefully out of this room, four more walls witness to his cruelty?   
  
Angelus looked around, donning his coat.   
  
He was bored.   
  
  
  
Wesley sat back against the side of a pouf, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.   
  
"Tomorrow," he said. "Tomorrow we'll read these."   
  
Cordelia yawned.   
  
"Okay," she said, her voice muffled behind her hand. "So we can go to bed now."   
  
"Oh please God yes," replied Wesley in a rush.   
  
They laughed.   
  
Wesley stood, and held out a hand to help Cordelia up. She took it.   
  
"Everything locked?" she asked.   
  
"Yes," he nodded.   
  
They walked upstairs, turning out lights as they went.   
  
"Night, Cordelia," he said.   
  
"Goodnight Wesley."   
  
She opened the door to her suite and closed it softly behind her. She went to the bathroom and washed her face in cold water. She went through the rituals of night time. Brushed her teeth, cleansed her face, rubbed night cream in slow circles into her skin. She brushed her hair.   
  
Returning to the room, she put on her pyjamas, comfortable and soft.   
  
Then she went to the balcony, and opened the doors.   
  
"Hi," he said.   
  
"Hi," she replied.   
  
"You knew I'd come," he said.   
  
"You've been here every night." She sat on the carpet, just a few feet from him. The barrier loomed invisible between them.   
  
He sat opposite her. They remained quiet for a moment.   
  
She cleared her throat.   
  
"I'm not going to do the 'You-evil-bastard-you-killed-Connor-and-Fred' thing, if you're looking for that satisfaction." She looked him straight in the eyes.   
  
"I'm not here for satisfaction," he purred.   
  
She rolled her eyes. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and she drew her knees up under her chin, resting her head on her arms.   
  
Angelus laughed quietly.   
  
"Why did you open the door?"   
  
"Bizarrely, conversation is less creepy than knowing you would stare in the window all night."   
  
"Not all night, give me some credit."   
  
"You've got blood on your face." She gestured to the splashes on his cheek and across his eye.   
  
"Oh, huh, no reflection." Angelus rubbed off the dried blood. He licked his fingers clean.   
  
"Who was that?" she asked.   
  
"Why do you want to know?"   
  
Cordelia shrugged.   
  
"Respect for the dead?"   
  
"She was just some girl. You know, blond, petite…" He chuckled.   
  
Cordelia shook her head.   
  
"What is it with you?"   
  
"What, are you jealous?" Angelus's eyes twinkled. "Want me to kill some dark-haired, big-smiled beauty?"   
  
"You are sick."   
  
"That is true. But I'm not the one jealous of a dead blond."   
  
"I am so not jealous." She sighed. "What's the point? Forget it. I'm going to bed." She stood up wearily.   
  
"Can I come?" He stood too, leaning against the barrier.   
  
"Never," she said. "Now go away."   
  
Angelus laughed again.   
  
"Okay," he said. "See you tomorrow?"   
  
Cordelia looked at him, puzzled.   
  
"What do you think this is? A burgeoning relationship?" She placed a hand on each door, ready to close them against the night.   
  
Angelus shrugged, a lop-sided smile creeping across his mouth.   
  
"It's so not." she said adamantly. "Get over it."   
  
"Then why'd you come to my window today?" he said, voice like raw chocolate.   
  
She shook her head, exasperated.   
  
"Angelus, I lied. You evil bastard you killed Connor and Fred and whoever that poor girl was tonight. Now go away." Her face was blank. "Why did I open this damn door?"   
  
"Because you don't have to lie to me."   
  
She stared at him, giving nothing away. Then she shut the doors. He heard the lock click home.   
  
Angelus sighed, and leaned back against the balcony.   
  
She was exactly what he needed to alleviate the boredom.   
  
  
  



	6. Duplicity

**Title:** Perfectly Happy part 6 -- Duplicity  
**Author:** Anna  
**Pairing:** Angelus/Cordelia (W/L)  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Phooey.  
**Rating:** R  
**Distribution:** Anyone who has already had permission has it again. Anyone else, let me know.  
**Feedback:** Yes please. Makes world go round.  
**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed. And special thanks to Ando and Pato, who bugged me till I wrote this. :D  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
Lilah reclined, breathless and covered in a post-coital sheen. She ran her sharp nails through Wesley's hair.  
  
"Mmm, I missed that," she purred.  
  
"Yes?" panted Wesley as he lay his cheek on her breasts. He laughed breathily. "Me too," he said, his voice husky with lust. "It's been too long."  
  
"Far too long," agreed Lilah. "Since you were so rude in the Hyperion."   
  
Wesley idly toyed with her nipple as he moved his face against the soft skin between her breasts. She liked that, his rough stubble against her.  
  
"You know you love it," he murmured.  
  
Lilah sighed, smiling.  
  
"True. Your abruptness can be a turn-on. So," she said, after a pause. "Any visits from our mutual evil friend lately?"  
  
Wesley laughed.   
  
"I thought this was just sex, Lilah," he said. "It's business too?"  
  
"You know I always mix business and pleasure," she replied, looking down at his upturned face and grinning. "I love my job."   
  
"Yes, you do." Wesley kissed his way up to her mouth, grating against her skin with his cheeks. "And I love your methods of extracting information." He kissed her savagely, ravishing her face with his passion. She moaned and arched up against him.  
  
When he pulled back she was breathless and her eyes gleamed.  
  
"Yes, you do," she whispered in reply. She turned him onto his back and straddled him, watching his heavy eyes invade her body as he became aroused once more. "But you didn't answer my question."  
  
Wesley ran his hands over her belly and around her hips, holding her down against him.  
  
"No, I didn't," he agreed. He began to move slowly under her and felt himself harden. He lifted her hips and she obliged, taking him inside her again. Wesley moaned. Lilah looked pleased.  
  
"I can tell you," he continued between pants, "that I have not seen him, nor have any of us. Though I hear there are bodies."  
  
"Aren't there always, when Angelus comes out to play?" replied Lilah. She moved up and down in slow circles. She scraped down his strong chest and watched his face contort in pleasure. "Your question is, how many? And where does the trade-off end between those he's saved and those he's killed?"  
  
Wesley opened his eyes and watched her scheming face. He smiled through the pulsing in his veins.  
  
"And your question, my dear Lilah, is how can you tame him." He laughed, and began to thrust more deeply inside her.  
  
Lilah threw her head back, guttural sounds of pleasure escaping her.  
  
"He can't be tamed," continued Wesley. "Remember that before you call round to his door with an invitation to the next board meeting."  
  
"Please," countered Lilah. "I'd send a courier." She moaned again, watching Wesley's face crease as she squeezed him tightly. "Anyway," she said, "everyone can be tamed. Everyone wants something, even him."  
  
"He wants nothing you can give him," panted Wesley. He opened his eyes and stared at her piercingly. "Unlike me." He half smiled at her, a sheen of sweat on his face.  
  
Lilah laughed deep in her throat, watching him underneath her. She felt buzzing pleasure build up between her legs, ready to shoot through her veins like quicksilver.  
  
"He joins us, or he's dust," she managed to say. "The senior partners will have their apocalypse with or without him."  
  
"I thought he was a major player," slurred Wesley against the throbbing in his blood.  
  
"But maybe for the other side," she said. "Wesley - " She cut herself off with a guttural scream of pleasure, as she felt her orgasm shooting through her body. Wesley thrust deep inside her as she milked his orgasm from him, an answering cry issuing from his throat. It seemed that everything stopped for those seconds, and nothing but that near-pain in the blood existed.  
  
She collapsed against him as she came down, panting against his sweat-coated skin. Wesley wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"Lilah," he breathed.   
  
They lay entwined in each other until they fell asleep.  
  
  
  
Cordelia strode down into the office as the sun set red in the west. The soft fall of evening; how her heart began to race now as the day closed. She bustled to the filing cabinet and opened it with purpose. A purpose that seemed to drain as soon as she looked inside. All the files hung neatly in rows, not a page out of place. She sighed and shut the cabinet again.  
  
"Wesley!" she cried as he came in the door. "Hi!"  
  
Wesley stopped and looked at her.  
  
"Hello," he said cautiously. "Are you feeling alright, Cordelia?"  
  
"Yeah!" she said. "I mean, no. Not really, you know with …" she gestured to the world in general. Wesley understood. He sighed heavily, his face tired and drawn.  
  
"There is more we need to discuss," he said. "New information."  
  
"Gunn came back," said Cordelia. "He's upstairs. I'll go get him."  
  
Wesley watched her walk towards the stairs. He frowned as he noted the nervous spring in her stride, the fidgeting energy that almost fizzled as her eyes flicked this way and that.  
  
She returned with a heavy-hearted Gunn in tow. He almost staggered after her, all his poise, all his strength sapped. He sat without a word on a couch in the lobby. Wesley regarded him with concern.  
  
"Gunn," he said. Gunn managed to raise his head. "I'm glad you're back."  
  
Gunn nodded.  
  
"There wasn't much place to go," he replied. "Not really."  
  
Wesley said nothing. He turned to Cordelia. Her gaze was fixed on the window, and for once she was still. He followed her eyes but saw nothing except the darkening sky.  
  
He cleared his throat.  
  
"I've been doing some research," he began. "Talking to various contacts, and so on."  
  
"Is that where you were all day and all last night?" cut in Cordelia. Wesley imagined he heard an edge to her voice.  
  
"Yes," he said hurriedly. "There were many people to talk to. But I have some information."  
  
Gunn's eyes flicked towards him.  
  
"What's up?" he said, with slightly more life than before.  
  
"It appears that Wolfram and Hart plan to recruit Angelus."  
  
Gunn looked interested. Cordelia laughed.  
  
"There's something funny about our arch enemies getting in bed together?" said Gunn sharply.  
  
Wesley blanched, but hid it under a cough.  
  
"Yeah!" said Cordelia, still laughing. "What do they think, like he'll play nice with the lawyers? I don't think so!"  
  
Her laughter faded as she looked at the faces of her companions. Neither seemed to find the idea quite so amusing.  
  
"Unlikely as Angelus's cooperation may be," continued Wesley after a pause, "the situation still presents us with a dilemma, as I see it."  
  
"Which is?" said Gunn, sitting up straight.   
  
"Should Angelus not comply with their wishes, then apparently they will kill him."  
  
The statement hung in the air.  
  
Cordelia laughed again, though this time nervous and edgy.  
  
"They couldn't. They never could. No one can."  
  
"Buffy did," pointed out Wesley.  
  
"Because of his soul's big untimely return! Angelus would never let that happen."   
  
Wesley looked at Gunn, who raised an eyebrow. Cordelia did not notice.  
  
"Cordy," said Wesley gently. "Are you sure you're alright?"  
  
Cordelia looked annoyed.  
  
"Yeah, Wes, I'm fine." She stood with her arms folded across her chest.  
  
Wesley did not reply.  
  
"So what's the dilemma?" said Gunn, almost chirpily.  
  
Wesley looked at him.  
  
"I should have thought that was fairly obvious," he replied.  
  
"Explain it to me like it's not," said Gunn.  
  
"Hello?" cut in Cordelia. "If Angelus dies, then so does Angel!" She frowned suddenly, as if caught in an unspoken thought.  
  
"Yeah, but we can't find an orb," said Gunn. "I hate to say it, but someone's got to. Maybe Angel won't be coming back. And if that's true, then hey, the lawyers want to do the deed, that's fine by me. Though I'd like to see his dust myself, after… After Fred. And Connor."  
  
Gunn looked away, but with dry eyes.  
  
"We'll find an orb," said Cordelia quietly. "We will."  
  
Wesley and Gunn again exchanged a glance. Cordelia's mood seemed to have plummeted in an instant. She stood sullenly, her eyes, unseeing, fixed on the floor.  
  
"Gunn is right," said Wesley gravely. "We may not. With the council uncooperative, and none anywhere on the black market, it seems, well, it seems very unlikely." Wesley removed his glasses and held the bridge of his nose. "I am so sorry Cordelia. But it's time we faced that possibility."  
  
Cordelia's head snapped up at her name. Her eyes were full of anger.  
  
"No," she replied simply.  
  
Wesley sighed.  
  
"He asked us, and I know you in particular, to kill him should he lose his soul once more," said Wesley. "He would hate to see himself this way, Cordelia."  
  
"So what, we put him down like a dog?"   
  
Wesley looked at her, helpless.  
  
"No, Wes. And you're forgetting something." Cordelia looked triumphant. "He was preparing for this himself. All those houses, all the money? He doesn't want us to kill him."  
  
"Cordelia, I can't explain why Angel would keep that property and wealth. But I know him, and he does not want to be a soulless killer!" Wesley was quite insistent, though he kept his calm. He felt as though he was walking on glass around Cordelia.  
  
"You know him! Ha!" Cordelia blazed. "You stole his son! You left! You left him. I was taken, and I came back. We are not killing him! I came back…"  
  
"If we don't, Wolfram and Hart will," said Gunn, rising from his seat.  
  
"Find a way. Find a way, Wesley! I am not losing him, not now!"  
  
Wesley shook his head.  
  
"I really don't think it's possible, Cordelia - "  
  
"Wesley." She cut him off, steel in her voice. "Find a way."  
  
Gunn looked warily at Wesley.  
  
"Okay. I'll try." Wesley sagged as he replied.   
  
Cordelia looked coldly at both of them.  
  
"Good. And until you find it, we keep him alive," she said shortly, before turning on her heel and striding upstairs.  
  
Gunn turned back to Wesley.  
  
"You as worried about her as I am?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Absolutely. She is not herself."  
  
"Nuh uh. She's pretty cut up."  
  
"Yes, she is." Wesley took a deep breath. "We have to try to find a way, Gunn. For her, now, more than anything."  
  
"But if we can catch him, I still say we kill him."  
  
Wesley nodded slowly.  
  
"Yes. If Lilah … if Wolfram and Hart don't get to him first."  
  
They sighed in unison. The future looked bleak.  
  
  
  
Cordelia walked to her suite, knowing without the slightest doubt that he would be there, on her balcony, waiting with that knowing smile on his face. She hated that smile. It was not merely an expression. It revealed his true knowledge of her, his insight into her very heart. He invaded her with every flippant glance.  
  
He was not there. She drew the curtains across the window that night without stepping outside. She lay awake until she realised that the tapping on the window she was expecting would not come. She bit her tongue to stop the tears.  
  
  
  
Angelus stood in front of the bare cream wall. He had angled the lamp to shine bright white against his back.  
  
He ruffled his hair and smoothed a cuff.  
  
Pretty good, he said to his shadow. Knock her dead. He smiled and turned.  
  
He left the apartment with a spring in his step. The darkling sky twinkled as he walked.  
  
  
  
The vision seared through her troubled dreams, jolting her out of sleep. She rose in the middle of the dark night with a clarity of purpose she had never known before. Donning expensive clothes, and tiptoeing through the lobby in the watery moonlight, she made her way to the car. She drove blindly fast to get there in time. Finally she pulled in, staring up at the one light on in the apartment block. The penthouse, naturally. Lilah would live nowhere else.  
  
The elevator was agonizingly slow. She had never seen the light travel from number to number with less speed. She willed it to go faster. Damnit, she should have taken the stairs.  
  
Finally it reached the penthouse. She pounded on the door with a fist.  
  
"Lilah," she shouted, her lungs bursting. "I know you're in there. Open up!"  
  
She did not expect him to answer, though she knew he was there. He looked her up and down with those appraising eyes. He smiled.  
  
She felt naked before him. She was grateful she had taken the time to dress properly. Without her armour, she would be entirely at his mercy.   
  
"Cordy," he said, his voice rolling in his throat.  
  
"Angelus," she replied.  
  
"Hey, honey, don't get the wrong idea, okay?" The ice in his whiskey clinked. "Me and Lilah? We're just … associates. Right, Lilah?"  
  
Lilah came to the door with a smile.  
  
"I knew you'd be here, and why," replied Cordelia bluntly. "Vision Gal, remember?"  
  
Angelus felt his face register surprise. He laughed. She kept him guessing, he appreciated that.  
  
She pushed past Lilah and stepped inside.  
  
"Come in," said Lilah. "Make yourself at home."  
  
"Whatever," said Cordelia offhandedly. "Angelus, I'm not here for you. I'm here for Angel."  
  
"Haven't we been through the whole I-am-him thing?" Angelus sipped his whiskey. Now this he could taste. It was rich heat in his belly.  
  
"And again I say, whatever," replied Cordelia. "You know she's going to have you killed if you don't agree to her little proposal, right?"  
  
"I expected no less," said Angelus. "But I'm touched that you care. Really."  
  
Lilah made her way to the long black couch and sat, her head cradled in her hand.  
  
"You mean you've agreed?" asked Cordelia, frowning.  
  
"I didn't say that," laughed Angelus. "They couldn't kill me, Cordy." He stepped close to her and touched her face lightly with the back of his fingers. She hardly seemed to notice. "I've been chased by slayers and vampire hunters for two and a half centuries. You think one law firm can take me down?"  
  
"Vampire hunters that had you cowering in barns," cut in Lilah. "You think we couldn't do worse?"  
  
Angelus turned and laughed, stepping beside Cordelia and draping his arm over her shoulders. She looked resigned.  
  
"A barn can be fun, when you're with the right woman," he drawled in his accent of old, nuzzling Cordelia's cheek. He watched her suppress the tingling thrill that came unbidden with his touch.  
  
She shook his arm away.  
  
"So you've got it all figured, huh? The assassin set to go if you refuse tonight? The big pile of dust you could be in the morning? You've got a big plan, have you?" Cordelia looked enraged. It thrilled him.  
  
"Lilah," he said. "Is this true?"  
  
Lilah no longer looked amused.  
  
"I knew we should have killed you when we raised Darla," she said through her teeth to Cordelia.   
  
"Hey, been up there, bored, came back, you deal," replied Cordelia with equal venom.  
  
"Who says I'd send you up there?" came the reply. Lilah stood, her jaw set.  
  
Angelus regarded her for a moment. This was a twist. While he loved the unexpected, this was not what he had in mind.  
  
"Go to hell," said Cordelia.  
  
"Hell will come here first. With or without you, Angelus." She stared at the vampire, her dark eyes now hard and cold.  
  
He sipped his whiskey once again, putting a hand in his perfectly tailored pocket.  
  
"I was once into that," he said lazily. "Trust me, the phase will pass."  
  
"Not this one. You know the deal. You want to come out on top? You join us."  
  
"While I do enjoy being on top, Lilah, sometimes it's fun to try new things. Let me show you what I mean." He sprang forward too fast for the human eye to see and caught her by the throat. "I'm leaving now, and you're coming with me." He began to walk towards the door, Lilah held tight against him. She walked reluctantly, her eyes darting around. "Cordelia? You got the car?"  
  
"What am I, your chauffeur?"  
  
"That would be chauffeuse. I thought you were here to save me."  
  
Cordelia threw him a withering look, but, sighing, walked close behind him. They made their way to the elevator and down to the car, Lilah unwillingly blocking any shots taken at her captor.  
  
"You know your problem, Lilah? You want things too quickly. No patience. A long, relaxed evening is not enough for you." He squeezed her cheeks between his thumb and fingers as he shoved her towards the convertible. "But then, you had one of those last night with Wes. Maybe you're tired."  
  
"With Wes?" echoed Cordelia.  
  
"That's right, with Wes," said Lilah. "You think he could give me up because you what, told him to?"  
  
Angelus threw her in the back seat and hopped over the door after her. Cordelia got in the front, fumbling with the keys. She turned on the ignition and raised the cover.  
  
"That's where he was last night." she said quietly. "And that's how he knew."  
  
"Of course," said Lilah scathingly. "You're surprised? Cordy, of all people, I thought you'd get how hard it is to stay away from the dark side."   
  
Cordelia watched her in the mirror as she looked pointedly at Angelus. Angelus merely smirked, his hand clamped on Lilah's arm.  
  
"I'm here for Angel," she said again.  
  
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. I'm sure someone will believe you sometime." Lilah looked away, feigning indifference.   
  
Angelus said nothing.  
  
Cordelia drove automatically to her old apartment. Angelus watched her from the backseat. He saw her mind in turmoil, could sense the battle in her breast.   
  
She parked outside the apartment and wordlessly took Lilah's other arm as they discreetly forced her to the door. He pushed open the door and threw her inside. Cordelia stepped in after him and shut the door behind her.  
  
She looked around the living room while he took Lilah into the bedroom. She heard cries, and assumed the rope was cutting into Lilah's flesh too tight. Cordelia did not care. She stared at the drawing of her face that adorned the wall over the mantle piece.  
  
"You like it?" came the low, feral voice from behind her.  
  
"Yeah," she answered. "How's Lilah?"  
  
"Bound, gagged," he answered lightly.  
  
"Won't the Wolfram and Hart heavies come to find her?" Cordelia turned to face him. "We were probably followed."  
  
"I doubt it. They'll probably throw a party that she's gone and then kill each other for the top spot." Angelus smiled. "Who cares?"  
  
Cordelia shrugged.  
  
"But you know who will come for her," he continued.  
  
"Wesley," she replied flatly.  
  
"That's right," said Angelus.  
  
"And you'll kill him."  
  
"He'll try to kill me, you know that."  
  
"But now you've given him another reason." Cordelia closed her eyes in resignation.  
  
"Yes. Thanks for your help."  
  
She looked at him again. He tried not to smirk. It was tough.  
  
"I did this for Angel."  
  
"What is that, some kind of catchphrase?" He laughed. "Angel. He's gone, baby. There's just me now. And don't try to tell me you find that too sad."  
  
She shook her head in disbelief.  
  
"Okay, one, Angel! Not you, I'm here for Angel! And two, no self-esteem issues with you, huh?" She stood with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Nice try," he said to her. "Soon you'll lie as well as I do."  
  
Cordelia raised her hand to her head.  
  
"Stop. Just stop."   
  
"You're tired."  
  
She could only drop her head. Angelus saw the fall of her shoulders.  
  
"I'm leaving," she said wearily. "If you're going to kill her, please do it quickly. No pain."  
  
"As you wish. We don't want her to enjoy it too much." Angelus walked beside her as far as the door. "Though I won't be killing her for some time yet."  
  
Angelus watched her face but saw not the flicker of an expression.  
  
"Goodbye," he said as she walked out the door. "And Cordelia."  
  
She stopped and turned back.  
  
"Thanks," he said. The smile that saw right through her was back.   
  
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him with bruised eyes.  
  
"It wasn't you," she said. "It will never be you."  
  
He watched her walk away towards the car.  
  
"Yes it will," he whispered into the night. The taillights glowed red as she pulled away. "It always is."  



	7. Through a Lens Darkly

Title: Perfectly Happy part 7 -- Through a Lens Darkly  
Author: Anna  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish.  
Pairing: Angelus/Cordelia (W/L)  
Distribution: Anyone who has already, then you have it again. Anyone else, please let me know.  
Feedback: Please! niannah@hotmail.com  
Notes: This has torture in it. It may not be to everyone's taste. And if you like fluff, I think maybe look elsewhere! Please do not read if squeamish.  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it is, as always, much appreciated. A special thanks to my homie Ando who beta read when she could have been writing her own fic and who bugged me… er, inspired me to keep writing! And to Pato, who also inspires me! Thanks guys.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
  
He tied Lilah while she slept. Her arms and legs to the bedposts with chains. Then he woke her with a long, rough lick from collarbone to earlobe.   
  
She came to with a laugh.   
  
"What are you going to do, tongue me to death?" she said. Angelus heard the smugness in her voice and raised his eyes to hers.   
  
"Oh, baby," he growled. "Don't you just wish."   
  
Lilah raised her head and looked around. The bed was covered in white linen. It smelled fresh. He had brought several lamps on stands into the room, their spots aimed at her. She was bathed in light. On the bed stand she saw a camera. An old Polaroid. Black and white.   
  
Her face fell slowly. Angelus smiled in inverse proportion.   
  
"Don't worry," he told her. "You're not going to die soon. And you never know. You might enjoy some of the parts in between."   
  
He watched Lilah force a smile.   
  
"Maybe I will," she said. Her voice belied her fear.   
  
Angelus laughed.   
  
"In fact," he said, "because you're such a brave little puppy, I'll make sure you do." He watched her watch him as he stood at the foot of the bed, thumbs nonchalantly hooked in leather pockets. "What do you think would hurt Wesley more, Lilah? Knowing you were in pain, or knowing you were in pleasure?"   
  
"Ah," said Lilah, her eyes narrowing. "This is about Wesley."   
  
Angelus shrugged.   
  
"Well, yeah," he replied. "What did you think, that it was about you? About Wolfram and Hart?"   
  
"Might have been," she countered.   
  
"Fuck Wolfram and Hart," said Angel impassively. "Corporate evil. That's just so yesterday."   
  
He began to walk slowly around the bed, his eyes roaming over her body.   
  
"Though you know, Lilah, if it was about your childishly evil law firm, I'd be really glad it was you in charge there. Doing this to any of your former bosses would just not be as much fun." He came to a halt about level with her waist. "Your well built womanly form. It's nicer, you know?" He frowned in mock concentration. "Of course, usually I prefer finer bone structure. And the hair, your hair is all wrong. However –" He took a hold of her dress at the neckline and ripped it right down the middle. "You'll do."   
  
He stood back and looked at her, the shreds of her dress still underneath her, her splayed body, still clad in her sexiest lingerie, squirming in an effort to hide itself. Angelus reached for the camera.   
  
The flash blinded her momentarily. When she opened her eyes again he was standing holding the paper, waiting for the picture to appear. He glanced at her.   
  
"I'm sure you'll look great," he said. "Hey, look! There you are!" He held the photograph near her face so she could see clearly. Angelus saw her muscles tense as she stopped herself wincing at the image before her. Humility was not Lilah's strong point.   
  
Angelus had to hand it to her, though. She was holding up well. Her heart was not yet racing, and he could not smell a trace of sweat. She was tough, for a human. He was really going to get a kick out of this.   
  
"Lilah," he said to her, drawing her name out, letting it roll in the back of his throat. "What's that I smell?"   
  
Ah, that got a reaction. She blushed. She knew what he smelled.   
  
"Don't be embarrassed," he said. "I've been told I'm a pretty handsome guy. I've seen pictures, you know. And I am, if you'll forgive my immodesty." He smiled at her. He tried for genuine, but fuck it, he knew his heart was not in it.   
  
So he ripped off her panties.   
  
~*~   
"Cordelia!" Wesley greeted her from the bottom of the stairs. "Cordelia, I may have good news."   
  
"Yeah?" she replied noncommittally. "What?" She walked past him towards the coffee machine. It was too early for anything to be better than coffee.   
  
"I may have a lead on an orb," he said. Cheerfulness bubbled in his voice.   
  
Cordelia turned to him, coffee in hand.   
  
"May have? You're awfully cheerful for may have."   
  
Wesley looked away, a smile still on his face.   
  
"I know. It's a vague lead, but it might mean…" Wesley looked in her eyes again. "It might mean that Angel could come back. Cordelia. Aren't you happy?"   
  
"I'm going to keep my overjoyedness till I see the orb, Wes. Right now, I'm going to finish my coffee, then go out to buy more. We've done no shopping since… since Angel left."   
  
She knocked back her coffee without looking at him. She did not want to see his wounded face. She took her bag and left, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder as she left the Hyperion.   
  
God, it was so dark in there, she was never quite prepared for the Californian sun.   
  
~*~  
Angelus had the curtains of Cordelia's bedroom well sealed. Lilah was not sure of the time. It could have been midnight or midday or any time in between.   
  
He stood at the foot of the bed, looking between her legs with a cold, almost clinical eye. Lilah squirmed involuntarily then mentally kicked herself for it. She tried to disguise it as an attempt to lie comfortably splayed, as if she welcomed his gaze. She knew she failed.   
  
Angelus held up the camera and took another picture.   
  
"You know, I think this one's gonna be arty," he said. "That's what they call porn if you shoot it in black and white, right?" He looked at her earnestly, his eyes glinting at her under the light of the spots. Then he sighed. "Wesley's gonna really treasure these."   
  
"I doubt it," said Lilah, scathingly. "You really don't know him very well, do you? Then how could you. You haven't spoken to him since you tried to kill him. Or was that Angel? Sometimes I really can't tell the difference."   
  
Angelus smiled, watching the image appear on the Polaroid paper.   
  
"Angel's the one who feels guilty," he said quietly.   
  
"Oh yeah, I forgot. A soul. And he still tried to kill Wesley. What did you do? Kill the brat and the skinny girl. Seriously, was there actually any blood in her to drink? Because I could never even see any flesh." Lilah laughed, warming to her theme. "And now you're, what, hanging out with the sexy Seer and taking pictures of me naked? Wow, real evil, Angelus. And the sad thing is, whatever you do to me, Wesley's not even going to care. And me? Evil. There's nothing you can do that I haven't already seen. And probably done." She laughed.   
  
Angelus said nothing, but walked around the bed towards her. Again he held the picture up close to her face for her to see. It was not her splayed legs that bothered her, when she looked. It was not the fact that she could see her own swollen clitoris, turned on by the creature that was going to kill her. It was her face. He had caught her in a split second of fear. And he knew it.   
  
He took the picture away.   
  
"Now tell me all that again," he said.   
  
She could not.   
  
~*~  
Cordelia took to the streets with a song in her heart. She felt giddily free. The sun shone gloriously, baking the pavement. She put her pale rose anti-uv glasses on, feeling confident and cool. The air smelled of hot concrete. A gentle breeze blew in from the ocean, clearing away all the mugginess of the city.   
  
She was going to buy coffee. She really was. But first, she would go shopping. Proper shopping. Spending real money in large amounts. She wanted clothes. Gorgeous, elegant clothes that would make her look more beautiful than he had ever seen her before.   
  
She strode ahead, unable to take the smile from her face.   
  
~*~  
Lilah lay naked under the lights, and under a half-naked Angelus. He kissed her neck, biting with human teeth, toying with her racing pulse. Lilah gritted her teeth.   
  
"Are you going to bite or just keep promising?"   
  
Angelus pushed himself up and looked at her.   
  
"I gotta hand it to you, Lilah. You're doing very well." He sighed. "I'll be honest. Right now, I'm just having fun. I just love the smell of your wet pussy, it turns me on, you know? But maybe you're right." He flicked into vamp face. "It might be time to up the stakes."   
  
He leant down and dug in his fangs just under her supersternal notch. Lilah gasped with the pain. He dragged his teeth down her chest, in the hollow between her breasts, scraping against the bone, and on down, deeper once he passed the sternum, down her belly and right to her pubic hair. This was no kinky scratch. He had ripped her flesh, and her skin was torn and bloody. He lapped it up before reaching for the camera.   
  
He knelt between her legs, the leather on his own legs rubbing against the delicate skin above her knees, eliciting more irrepressible reactions from the gasping woman.   
  
"Wow, this one's good," he said. "I got the focus just right, you know? Yup, Wes is gonna love that one." He laid it with the others on the bed stand, and the camera beside it. "Now," he said. "What next?"   
  
~*~  
Cordelia trailed her fingers along a rack of dresses. They were expensive and elegant. She could see herself in every one of them. But she would only choose the best. And then there were all the other clothes she wanted.   
  
She sighed. It had been a long time since she had taken so much pleasure in clothes shopping. She gathered dresses up in her arms and took them to the fitting room.   
  
"Can I help you?" asked the smiling assistant.   
  
"Yeah, I'm going to want more, but I'm starting with these," said Cordelia airily.   
  
"Oh, of course," said the assistant, her false smile becoming real.   
  
Commission, thought Cordelia. Wonderful incentive.   
  
~*~  
Lilah bit her tongue to keep from screaming. Angelus looked up at her from between her thighs.   
  
"How you holding up, Lilah? Having fun?"   
  
"Sure," she bit out through gritted teeth.   
  
"Really? Good." He looked down at her thighs. The inside of one was ripped to shreds. He was about to start on the second. There was now a little pile of photographs on the bed stand, some of them close-ups of the injuries he was inflicting, some of them of her face, and some of her increasingly bloodied body. He was particularly fond of the close-up of his fang marks on her right breast. He took two of that, so he could keep one.   
  
He bent down to her left thigh.   
  
"I love this part," he said through his fangs. "Skin's all white and perfect. And may I say I love a girl who keeps the bikini line so well waxed. But soon, blood, torn flesh, and hardly any skin left at all. It's kinda poetic, don't you think? Existential. The human condition, and so on."   
  
"Oh, shut up!" she cried, immediately regretting it. She shut her eyes. She could feel him perfectly still between her legs.   
  
He waited. Then he crawled up along the bed till he was face to face with her. She opened her eyes to see his human face looming over her. The air from his mouth smelled rankly of blood. She gasped. His eyes burned with black flame.   
  
She felt herself crumple inside. She tried to stop it, to hold herself together. She had seen worse. She had seen the senior partners. What was one vampire?   
  
Thing was, this was the vampire that was going to kill her. Very, very painfully. With the senior partners it did not matter what she did. She was human, and therefore a footnote. She had never been the centre of attention before. And she had certainly never been the buffet lunch.   
  
Angelus watched her eyes, saw the fear grow. He smiled again, slowly, lazily.   
  
"I know you didn't mean that, right?"   
  
Lilah shut her eyes again.   
  
"Because if you did, it might have to hurt more. So think carefully. Did you mean that?"   
  
Yes! She screamed inside her head.   
  
"No," she whimpered. "No."   
  
Angelus licked her neck.   
  
"Good," he whispered in reply. He reached out for the camera. She saw the flash through her eyelids.   
  
Then he returned his attention to her thigh.   
  
~*~  
Cordelia looked at herself in the mirror. It was perfect. A one-off, venomous green chiffon piece, feminine and stunning. She smoothed the dress over her hips as she turned to look at it from all angles. A beautiful diagonal cut across the knees revealing perfectly tanned leg, and a bust tight enough to lift her breasts. Spaghetti straps over her shapely shoulders.   
  
Yes. It was perfect.   
  
"Excuse me?" she called. "I'll take this one. Now, could you bring me something more casual?"   
  
The assistant ran to help.   
  
~*~  
Angelus tore into her belly. She could no longer stop the screaming. She was covered in sweat and blood.   
  
"I used to use torture implements, you know. I preferred blades and whips." He looked at her again, her eyes wet with tears and pain. "But with you I realise, I got fangs right here in my mouth. Who needs blades? And that way I get to drink all your lovely blood too. I mean, why waste it?" He stopped and looked around at the sheets. They were red. "Well. I wasted some." He laughed. She turned away from him, her wrists red and bleeding where she fought against the manacles.   
  
The pain was quite simply unbelievable. She could not believe she was in so much agony and that it had not yet killed her. She screamed, wishing that it would. But she would not say it. No. He would never wring that from her. Lilah Morgan did not ask for death.   
  
His face was smeared in blood. Sometimes he would spit flesh that stuck in his fangs. She did not know if she had any skin left and could not bear to look. She shut her eyes now when he held out the photos for her to see. There was a pile of them beside the bed, maybe sixty or seventy. Most of them had bloody thumbprints on them. Angelus was bathed in blood.   
  
"You know what, I'm gonna need a shower after this." He licked at the gaping hole in her belly. "You're never gonna need a shower again. Kinda funny." He lay on top of her, pressing the skin of his torso against her bleeding flesh. He liked the feel of it on his skin.   
  
She clamped her jaw shut with the pain of his weight.   
  
"What's wrong? You not having fun anymore?"   
  
Lilah thrashed futilely against the manacles and against his muscular bulk. Angelus laughed.   
  
"Aw, Lilah, honey! You should have said." He shifted on her, slipping a hand down between them. "Let's see what we can do… Oh. I see I went too far with the foreplay, huh? You're not wet for me anymore." He watched Lilah retreat inside herself as his fingers stroked her unaroused clitoris.   
  
She managed to speak.   
  
"Women usually love foreplay, Angelus. But sometimes we get bored." She opened her heavy eyes and looked into his. The worst thing was that he always looked amused. If only he would stop looking amused.   
  
"Hmm. See, Lilah, the women I've been with have always been the strong kind. Darla. Buffy. They're not afraid to say what they want. If I'd known you were so submissive…" His voice trailed away. She heard him unzip his fly.   
  
"What was your Seer like in bed, Angelus? She take it any way you gave it because she was in love with Angel?" Lilah attempted to taunt. If only she had more energy. If only he had not taken so much.   
  
"Cordy… well, Cordy's unique. Cordy doesn't even have to ask. She just takes. And I love that in a woman." He smiled, showing bloody teeth. "But the question now is, what do you want, Lilah? What will you take?"   
  
"Anything you can give," she replied as harshly as she could.   
  
She felt him run his hand over her bloody skin, and then slip it back down between her legs. He coated her with her own blood. She could feel his penis against her. She closed her eyes against this final indignity before he pushed inside her and she screamed.   
  
She opened her eyes wide with the shock as he entered her. A smile played around his mouth. He still looked amused.   
  
~*~  
It was the fourth skirt she tried on that she liked best. It was very short. So short she knew it was an excuse to buy new underwear. Pleated khaki, again with a diagonal cut. She knew that made her legs look even longer. A delicate pink satin top with appliquéd sequins to feminise it. Beautiful.   
  
"Hey, excuse me? I'll take these two. Along with all of those." Cordelia pointed to six or seven other garments on the rack outside her dressing room. The assistant looked at her with delight and began to ferry the clothes out to the till.   
  
Cordelia sighed with a smile as she put her clothes on.   
  
Now came the next fun part. Accessories, lingerie, and shoes.   
  
~*~  
She wished he did not have such goddamned stamina. He could fuck for Ireland, or wherever the fuck he was from. She just lay there and took it. What else could she do?   
  
Angelus growled as he thrust into her.   
  
"Lilah," he panted. "You enjoying this, honey? Because I want you to know that I am. You're one tight screw, you know that?" He moaned as he pushed harder and harder inside her.   
  
She gritted her teeth. Soon it would be over. Soon it had to be over. Please. God.   
  
~*~  
Cordelia tried on pair after pair of shoes. She finally went for thong stilettos with encrusted green rhinestones to go with the dress. When she stood in them she felt invincible. No one could touch her. She got slightly less impractical footwear to go with her other clothes. Screw it, she told herself. She was going to fight this fight her own way. And this time, maybe fighting did not always have to involve actual fighting. Maybe there was more here. If they were all going to die anyway.   
  
Kitten heels to go with the pink suit with a very low flat-fronted waist and zip pockets on the jacket. Strappy sandals to go with the three quarter length combats. Cute trainers meant for anything but training to go with the hipster jeans that showed off her butt so nicely.   
  
Then accessories. A wide sequinned belt, a narrow chain-link one. Jewellery to match her shoes; a narrow old-gold chain with a drop pendant studded with white gems. Earrings and an anklet to match. Silver for the more casual clothes.   
  
And all on plastic. The boss of Angel Investigations had enough money. She smiled to herself at the thought.   
  
~*~  
It was over. He stood in the shower, the water running red down his skin. He licked it thoughtfully from his arm as he contemplated the body in the next room.   
  
Yes. That was satisfying.   
  
Her face towards the end. So scrunched up with pain. He laughed. She had begged in the final minutes, just as they all did. End it! Please! But he did not. He just kept fucking and flaying her till she died. It really was very satisfying.   
  
He poured shampoo into his hand and lathered it in his hair. Blood poured away down the drain.   
  
~*~  
Cordelia waltzed in the door of the Hyperion, humming. Her arms were laden down with bags and boxes. In her left hand she held coffee.   
  
"Wes?" she called. "I got coffee!"   
  
"Yes," said Wesley, appearing from the office. "So I see." His hair was bedraggled and his eyes were deep in black sockets. He held a scroll in his hand.   
  
"Yeah. Well, I got some other stuff too." Cordelia looked at her arms.   
  
"Indeed," replied Wesley. "That's good, it's good that you're… more cheerful." He smiled through his exhaustion.   
  
Cordelia grinned.   
  
"Yeah! Thanks, Wes!" she said chirpily. "Come on, I'll show you what I got. And I'll make you a coffee."   
  
Wesley smiled again. A weight seemed to fall from his shoulders as he looked at her. His eyes smiled for the first time in a long time.   
  
"That sounds perfect," he said, laughing. He left the scroll down on the reception desk and walked to Cordelia. "It really is good to see you back to yourself," he said.   
  
"Yeah, well, retail therapy. It'll cure anything." She turned quickly and dumped her bags on the couch. "I'll put on the coffee."   
  
~*~  
Angelus packed the photographs very neatly and in order into a box. He did not forget the handwritten note. He prided himself in his attention to detail.   
  
He just could not decide whether or not to include a finger or two. Perhaps a whole hand.   
  
He looked back into the tightly packed box.   
  
Damn. They would not fit.   
  
~*~  
Wesley laughed as she turned this way and that, showing off in her low-cut suit. She strutted from the stairs and back again, her hips swinging and heels clicking.   
  
"You look so beautiful, Cordelia," he said. "You really do."   
  
She looked at him, tilting her head slightly.   
  
"Thanks, Wes," she said, after a moment. "Wait here and I'll change into something else."   
  
She ran up the stairs. Wesley sighed and sipped his coffee. He smiled to himself. It was as if time had been rolled back. He thought of the time Angel bought her clothes. He had not seen her like this since then. He shook his head, the thought of Angel dulling his mood for a moment.   
  
As he took another mouthful of cooling coffee, there came a knock at the door. He looked up in surprise and went to open it. A courier. Wesley duly signed and took the package. It was heavy. He took it to the counter to unwrap it.   
  
When Cordelia came down the stairs in her green dress she saw Wesley crumpled on the ground beside the desk, surrounded by photographs. He did not cry. He simply stared at the pictures, uncomprehending.   
  
Cordelia picked one up.   
  
"Oh my God." She knelt beside the stricken man. "Oh my God, Wesley."   
  
There was a bloody thumbprint on the picture she held. She placed her own thumb over it, holding it as he had held it. She looked at the image. It was a full-length of Lilah, her body ripped to shreds. He had stood, waiting for the photo to develop, and he had held it like this.   
  
She turned back to Wesley. She watched as his face fell, and creased, and collapsed into intense, wracking sobs. Tears began to fall. He could not wrest his gaze from the photos spread around him. She had been in such pain. Such agony. He leafed his shaking hands through the pictures, picking one up here and there, watching as her face became more and more twisted in pain.   
  
And then there were the truly horrific ones. Sometimes, even as her skin was eaten away, sometimes she looked as though pain was not the primary sensation.   
  
Cordelia stood. She felt far away, as if the scene before her had little to do with her. She knew she had helped bring Lilah to this end. And yet, she cared nothing. Nothing at all.   
  
"Wesley?" she said quietly. Then again, "Wesley?"   
  
He looked up from her, his body trembling.   
  
"Cordy," he gasped. "Please. Go. I… need to –" He stopped, before taking a ragged breath. "I need to see her alone."   
  
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."   
  
Cordelia stepped back. Leave Wesley room to grieve, she said to herself. Gunn is here if he needs anything.   
  
~*~  
She took her coat and left. He would be waiting for her.   
  
~*~ ~*~  
TBC  



	8. There Is Only Me

**Title:** Perfectly Happy, part 8/8 -- There Is Only Me  
**Author:** Anna  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Pairing:** Angelus/Cordelia  
**Distribution:** SU, Soulmates, Nothing Fancy. Anyone who has already archived it still has permission. Anyone else, let me know. Thank you.  
**Feedback:** Please! niannah@hotmail.com  
**Notes:** I began this story before AtS season 4 began airing in the US, so it's a relief and also a sad thing to reach the end. Thanks to everyone who has read and supported along the way, I appreciate it so much. Thanks especially to Ando, who has always been there, supportive with every sentence as I write, and Pato, who has always asked for more.  
I hope this lives up to the wait. Thank you all.   
  
________________________________________________________  
  
The Scourge had washed his hair slowly, his thick-padded fingers massaging circles on his scalp. He liked using her shampoo. It smelled intimate. He saw her curves in the space inhabited by his body, his mind's eye bright with her honey skin. How nicely she contrasted with his alabaster. Milk and honey. Promised.   
  
He had packed the photos while wrapped in her towel, and called a courier. By the time the kid on the bike arrived, he was half dressed. No leather now, it was covered in blood. And tonight was not for leather. Tonight was for something finer, something more elegant. She would come to him tonight.   
  
So he donned expertly tailored pants of soft wool, a dark charcoal, almost black. Over that, a hand sewn, exquisite, dark crimson shirt, slim line, close to his skin. He left the top two buttons undone. His shoes were black, of the softest Italian leather. He wore a signet ring given him by Darla two centuries before, and cufflinks he had found in Paris one night, on the wrists of a finely dressed young gentleman who had tasted of recent absinthe.   
  
He sat on the couch, his back to the darkening window. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and he felt the lingering light tingle at the top of his spine. Ice clinked in his Midleton. A rich old gold, twenty five years in the cask. No wonder the taste was strong on his tongue. It was older than childish champagne, richer than wine. The taste soaked into his new blood. He felt strong. A good kill. Not a clean kill, but a good one. He closed his eyes, savouring another mouthful of whiskey.   
  
She would be here soon.   
Cordelia was gone before the phone rang. Her own voice answered, echoing in the lobby. Gunn reached it just before the beep, running by the distraught Wesley to pick up the receiver.   
  
And so she did not hear that they had found an orb in England, in a dusty vault of the Watchers' Council. She did not know that it was being sent post haste with someone the council trusted in this matter. Nor did she know that this messenger was also quite the magic man of late.   
  
Wesley had ceased his sobbing, listening to Gunn on the phone.   
  
"They're sending the orb?" he said weakly, his voice hollow.   
  
"Yeah, man. What happened you?" Gunn bent down, and picked up a picture. "Oh my god," he said.   
The orb had, in fact, already arrived. The council had decided that they were not fools. They could not get close enough to Angelus to turn him to dust, but they could turn him into the neutered vampire they could largely ignore, apart from biannual file updates. Rupert Giles made his impatient way through the airport, anxiety and fear etched onto his drawn face. The extended flight made him feel worn through and in need of sleep and a shower but there was no time for that now.   
  
He flexed his fingers, holding them close to his old corduroy jacket, and watched the magic crackle from the tips forming web of sizzling energy over his hand. It disappeared when he clenched his hand into a fist and stuck it in his pocket. He needed to save it. He would need it all.   
  
The customs official looked suspiciously at the ornate glass paperweight in its velvet lined presentation box. Giles smiled gamely. He sighed in relief when she replaced it in his holdall and he headed for the doors.   
  
  
  
Cordelia walked as if two years had fallen away. Two years of visions, of pain, her own and others'. She was sick of it. So very sick of it all. So sick of demon blood on her favourite clothes, sick of fighting a losing battle against the darkness. She knew it, she knew it all along, that some day, possibly not too far away, on of those apocalypses would succeed. They would arrive ten seconds too late, they would have read the wrong damn book.   
  
And now Angelus had killed Connor and Fred and Lilah. Connor and Fred had had it easy, they had merely been killed. Lilah had been destroyed.   
  
He was not going to do that to her. She stood proud, her chin held at a regal angle. The vermilion of her dress made her skin glow with an inner gold. The wind played gently with her hair in the balmy sunset.   
  
She walked towards the door and, before she reached it, watched it open into the shadows. His face glowed starkly white in the gloom inside her curtained apartment.   
  
She reached the threshold and held his gaze.   
  
"It looks like we are of a mind," she said, her eyes flicking over his clothes.   
  
"So it appears," replied Angelus. He stood back from the doorway and asked her in. She stepped through the doorway. She knew her heart remained steady, and not a trace of fear would he smell.   
  
He looked impressed.   
  
"Do you want to see her?" He smiled wickedly.   
  
"Yes," she replied. He watched her face. He could see a smile there, though hidden under the vestiges of her conscience.   
  
He led the way to her bedroom and swung the door open. They stood either side of the doorway, leaning on the jambs.   
  
She looked at the body. Apart from a slight queasiness that she overcame easily, she felt nothing. She was astonished. She felt nothing.   
  
"Wow," she said. "I thought I'd care, you know, when I actually saw her."   
  
Angelus laughed.   
  
"I knew you wouldn't," he chuckled.   
  
She folded her arms, saying nothing, simply looking.   
  
The body was barely Lilah, except for the face. The usual glassy stare of a corpse. Where he had left skin, it had already turned waxy and bloodless. The blood was already becoming rusty where it had dried into the sheets. The lights he had set up still shone on the bed and heated up the air of the room.   
  
She could smell that strange smell of human blood. It lacked the tang of copper, it was sweeter than that, more fulsome and cloying. Like his breath after he had killed Fred. He did not smell of blood now. He smelled of her shampoo and the air of his voice smelled faintly of whiskey.   
  
She turned to him and smiled for the first time.   
  
"Say thank you," she said.   
  
He faced her.   
  
"Thank you. For what, precisely?" His eyes twinkled.   
  
"For saving you from her. For bringing her to you so you could have all this fun." He arched her eyebrows playfully, tilting her head towards the bed.   
  
"Oh, Cordy," he purred. He smiled broadly. "Thank you. I mean it. Thank you."   
  
"How long did she last?" Cordelia looked back towards the body.   
  
"Almost six hours. I was pleasantly surprised. I wasn't expecting so much fun."   
  
"Or wow, so much blood." Cordelia's nose wrinkled.   
  
"Well, I was kinda expecting that."   
  
"I guess you'd know." Her gaze remained on the body still spread obscenely on the bed. Angelus moved behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. He felt her tense ever so slightly as she looked at the body, so he began to rub her neck gently in circles, easing the tension away again. He took the opportunity to admire her. Green chiffon rustling so quietly only he could hear it. It clung to the curve of her back and over the firm roundness of her ass. Her shoulders were bare and honey, fronds of her dark hair contrasting with the softness of her skin. He continued to work circles on her neck with his thumbs as he moved closer to her, his body now brushing against hers.   
  
"Comes with experience," he purred into her ear. He could feel her smile, and imagined the way her face shone. How he had coveted that smile when he was caged inside Angel. How the soul had failed to read her, read the deep darks inside his angelic Cordelia. He had striven to be deserving of her. It made him laugh. Look at her now, Angel, he said to that soul he felt watching him. Look at her now, in my arms.   
  
As he gloated, she turned. She leaned seductively against the door jamb, her body mere inches from his own.   
  
"So, the bed is occupied, huh?" she said, flashing flirtation in her eyes.   
  
He smiled.   
  
"Oh, I think of everything," he said smugly, walking by her into the room. He stood by the side of the bed and rolled Lilah's body in the sheet she lay on. She landed on the floor the other side of the bed with a thud, her limbs making awkward angles under the cotton.   
  
Beneath the coppery, blood-stained sheet there was a plastic sheet, and under that, silk. Cordelia smiled indulgently.   
  
"Apparently you do," she said.   
  
Angelus marvelled at her. She had lost everything, and she stood there, beautiful and strident in green, slipping as easily into his world as she did that dress.   
  
"Come," he said briefly, as he took her hand and led her back into the living room. It was lit with the warm light of candles and a small fire flickering happily in the grate. He put music on, something soft and classical. A waltz.   
  
"I remember when this was pop," he said quietly as he turned with a smile.   
  
"Oh, you older guys," laughed Cordelia as he swept her into his arms. He held her close and began to move, slowly at first, guiding her modern feet.   
  
"We know how to dance," he murmured.   
  
  
  
Giles sat in the back of the cab glancing fretfully from his watch to the window to the clock on the dashboard. Something had to be wrong. The time, the speed of the traffic, something. This was too slow. Too slow. One hand rested on his bag, fingers splayed over the shape of the case that held the orb.   
  
Giles had never much cared for Angel apart from his influence over the Slayer, but this orb, this soul, was for the world. Giles knew his tactics. He was just warming up, and LA would only be the beginning.   
  
  
  
When he kissed her he felt the frisson of pleasure ripple through her body. He kept his hand at the base of her spine, pressing her body close to his as he gently opened his mouth against hers, maintaining their sinuous rhythm with the gentle music. He felt her breath hot against his cheek. She slid her left hand up his neck and held his hair. He knew the sign. He kissed her more deeply, his tongue now tentatively meeting hers, his left hand sliding up her right arm and coming to rest on her shoulder blade. She wrapped her free arm around him, enveloping him in her smell and taste.   
  
Their kisses became passionate, heated. He felt something frantic inside her, something that needed him, something that wanted him. He growled into her mouth, and she whimpered at the vibrations in his chest and jaw. His arms tightened possessively around her.   
  
She felt her feet leave the floor. She felt his teeth at her neck, just below her earlobe. The pleasure and danger sent shocks deep into her belly, fizzling between her legs. She expected him to carry her to the bed and throw her down, but no. He remained there, kissing her mouth, her eyes, her neck, returning to her mouth, as she floated in his arms. He kept turning, stepping lightly to the music. He whispered her name, Cordy, Cordy, Cordy.   
  
"We have all the time in the world," he said gently, smiling into her smile.   
  
  
  
"Is there a faster way?" said Giles to the complacent driver. It seemed too incredible that the urgency of his mission could not infuse this man with greater haste, panic, even, to bring him to the Hyperion. He prayed Wesley would have everything ready for the spell.   
  
The cab driver replied with a noncommittal shrug and made no adjustment to their route.   
  
Giles clenched his fingers around the orb.   
  
  
  
He finally relented, slipping one strap of her dress over her shoulder. He followed its trail with his lips. Her feet touched the floor once more as he bent to kiss the skin below her collarbone, his slightly stubbled jaw grazing tantalizingly against the curve of her breasts. She fisted her hands in his hair and brought him back to her mouth. She took a step back towards the pillar behind her and he pressed her against it, his body moulding against hers as she wrapped a long leg around his waist. His hand trailed along her thigh, resting under her knee, pulling her closer still, sensing her arousal now against him. He moved his hips and ground into her, eliciting breathy moans between kisses.   
  
"Angelus," she whispered. It thrilled him.   
  
"Say that again," he said, pulling her other leg around him and crushing her against the column.   
  
"Angelus," she said, louder this time. She sought out his eyes and found them black with lust and delight. "Angelus, Angelus, Angelus. My Scourge."   
  
He kissed her furiously, devouring her, his hands roaming roughly over all the skin he could find. Her shoes now kicked across the room, Cordelia clung to him desperately, her tongue and teeth finding their way to his neck and biting down hard. He growled into her ear and she bit again. She arched her body into him as his hands snaked up her back and began to lower the delicate zip at the side of her dress.   
  
  
  
Giles had finally arrived. He half ran into the lobby of the Hyperion to find Wesley, looking dishevelled and exhausted, waiting with a tight, grim smile.   
  
"Giles, you're here," he said. His voice cracked. Giles pretended not to notice.   
  
"Yes," he said. "I have the orb."   
  
"And I have everything else we'll need," Wesley replied. "This is Gunn, he'll be helping."   
  
Giles nodded a brief hello.   
  
"I am so sorry to hear of everything that has happened," he said.   
  
Wesley simply nodded.   
  
"It was you who persuaded the Council to send the orb?" he asked from under dark brows.   
  
"Yes," said Giles. "You know how they are, especially on the subject of Angel."   
  
"Quite," replied Wesley. "Quite."   
  
Giles looked around and carried his holdall over to the reception desk.   
  
"Where is Cordelia?" he asked as he took the orb carefully from the bag. He placed it on the desk and turned back to Wesley and Gunn, who were sharing an uncomfortable glance.   
  
"We're not sure," replied Wesley. "Cordelia has been acting somewhat oddly of late."   
  
"We think she's with the big bad vamp we're about to castrate," cut in Gunn. Disgust was evident on his face.   
  
Wesley sighed in acquiescence.   
  
Giles said nothing, but turned back to the intricately carved wooden box that held the orb.   
  
"In that case," he said, "we had better begin as soon as possible."   
  
  
  
The dress looked good on her but better on the floor, he thought, as he ran his hands over her skin. She still held on to his waist with her legs as he stumbled over his discarded shirt on the way to the bedroom. Her tiny, lacy, vermilion lingerie still punctuated the flow of her honey skin. Her hands worked at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from its loops. She opened his pants as he brought her through the doorway. The smell of blood was still sickly in the air. He laid her on the bed and crawled over her, his pants now discarded on the carpet.   
  
Her face was flushed and her lips full of blood and passion. He kissed across her collarbone and listened to the thundering of her arteries, idly wondering if he would be able to resist his urge to kill her as she came in his arms. She moaned deliciously as he took her nipple into his mouth through green lace. Her demanding body rose against him. Her hands traced shapes of need over his shoulder blades. He felt her heat tingling into him from her burning skin.   
  
He deftly undid her bra and flung it from the bed. His attention turned to her welcoming, womanly stomach. His hands tickled promises around the flimsy string of her lingerie.  
  
  
They laid out the ingredients on the marble flagging precisely as described in figure seven point four. The deep, almost fungal smell of strong herbs filled the lobby, smoke trailing its lazy way towards the distant ceiling.   
  
"Woo!" said Gunn, his nose crinkling. "That is a disturbing odour."   
  
"Yes," agreed Wesley absently. He tinkered with the arrangement, making sure each was perfectly aligned. Giles gently put out his hand and stopped him, reassurance in his eyes. Wesley sighed, and sat back. His frown, however, did not lift.   
  
Giles's reassurance was false. His one previous experience with the Spell of Restoration did not imbue him with confidence.   
  
He took out the old, slightly dog-eared print out Willow had made from Jenny's computer years ago. Jenny. The name still brought a pang.   
  
He cleared his throat as Gunn waved the smoking herbs in the air. Gunn's cynical expression mirrored Giles's feeling precisely.   
  
  
  
Cordelia looked beautiful in the heat of lovemaking, he thought to himself. Luscious and abandoned and utterly, utterly uninhibited. He could give it to her any way he pleased, he thought to himself, and she would take it. He fully planned on testing that hypothesis during the gloriously long days ahead, debauched days and bloody nights.   
  
She would never be Darla, but she had her own deadly allure. Not that he would turn her. Turn her, and the fun is over. That was not the point with his disintegrating Cordelia.   
  
This was the point, he thought, as he punished her with his forceful thrusts. She whimpered, pain and pleasure fighting it out deep inside her.   
  
"Cordelia," he said, his voice low and grating as gravel. Her eyes flickered open. When she saw his face she half smiled through her raw desperation for release.   
  
"Angelus," she managed to say, before biting down fiercely on her own lip.   
  
Angelus licked up the blood and felt it tingle on his tongue. She sparked. She glowed.   
  
She fucked like a woman destroyed.   
  
  
  
"Quod perditum est, in venietur," intoned Giles, looking around the Hyperion lobby as if he expected to see the airy shapes of the very spirits he summoned. "Not dead, nor not of the living, spirits of the interregnum I call."   
  
The orb began to glow, gently at first, but then a deeper orange.   
  
Gunn's eyes lit up.   
  
"Man, that's his soul?" he whispered to Wesley.   
  
Wesley nodded, his own eyes fixed also on the orb.   
  
Angel's soul. Angel's leash.   
  
To his horror, Wesley found himself wondering if Angel really wanted it back.   
  
"Let him know the pain of humanity," continued Giles. His eyes could barely rest on the page as the energy of the words began to crackle in the air. "Gods bind him, cast his heart from the demon realm. Te implor Doamne, nu ignora accasta rugaminte! Lasa orbita sa fie vasul carei va transporta sufletul la el!" Giles mustered all his courage. "Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporuil meu de a conduce... Asa sa fie! Acum!"   
  
The last word reverberated with a power far, far from natural. The air itself was painful as energies ripped it molecule from molecule, lightning danced and the air was thick and sharp with the smell of ozone.   
  
Wesley, Giles and Gunn held on in the middle of the magical storm, watching the last orb of Thessulah, waiting for it to disappear.   
  
  
  
Angelus watched her face as she came. He felt her squeeze him so tightly, as if she never wanted to let him go. As if he was all she had.   
  
He felt his own release ripping through him, quicksilver burning his old arteries, shooting through his nerves. And something else, a deeper hum and throb of energy he could not quite grasp in his mind, something thrumming and low in the air.   
  
"Angelus!" she gasped, the final ebbs of her orgasm breaking over her like waves. "Angelus," she repeated with a breath of satiation.   
  
"Cordy!" he replied. His eyes were black with shock, staring into her own as she lay under him. His face contorted.   
  
His eyes glowed orange and she felt the thrill of danger tingle through her.   
  
"Angelus," she said again, smiling, reaching her arms around him, daring him to sink his fangs in. Her eyes glinted darkly.   
  
He shook his head, his face now a mask of pain.   
  
"No," he spluttered. "Aw, come on, a few more hours!" He shut his eyes and his entire body arched into her before collapsing over her body, his limbs suddenly drained and powerless, his chest heaving with a habit he had almost forgotten.   
  
Cordelia ran her hands through his hair. She was concerned now.   
  
"Angelus?" she said uncertainly, trying to lift his head to see his face.   
  
She did not have to. He raised his head himself and merely looked at her.   
  
Her face fell horribly. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock.   
  
He raised himself wordlessly to his knees, slipping out if her as he did so. He sat back on his legs.   
  
Cordelia scrambled backwards and hugged herself against the headboard.   
  
"Angel," she whispered hoarsely.   
  
His face barely flickered.   
  
"Yes," he said. Once again his brow wore that heavy expression of pain.   
  
This time, however, he did not wear it for the pain he had inflicted.   
  
  
  
The storm died. Somewhere in the crackle and light the orb had disappeared.   
  
Wesley, Giles and Gunn sagged, power draining from their limbs as the magic dissipated. They looked from one to the other.   
  
"So what now?" said Gunn. "We wait and see if the champion comes home?"   
  
Wesley shrugged.   
  
"I guess so," he said.   
  
It all seemed so anticlimactic.   
  
Giles folded the sheet of paper, once more thoughts of Jenny pushed aside.   
  
"The orb is gone," he said. "Unless there are circumstances of which we are not aware, Angel is once again ensouled."   
  
Wesley pushed himself up form the floor, stiff limbs complaining.   
  
"In which case, I think we can expect him at some point, if even just to tell us that Angelus is no longer a threat."   
  
Gunn nodded and stood.   
  
"So we wait," he said. "Great."   
  
  
  
Cordelia covered her nakedness with a pillow. Angel kneeled before her on the bed, his head heavy and his shoulders tense. He held his forehead with a hand.   
  
"Angel," she whimpered again. "Angel, I'm sorry."   
  
He shook his head, a laugh suggesting itself on his lips. He lowered his hand and looked at her.   
  
"There is nothing I can say," he said evenly. "And, before you begin, there is nothing you can say."   
  
She expected the sting of tears at his words. Yet there were none. Her chest should have felt hollow, but it did not. She looked into his dark, accusatory eyes and expected shame and remorse. Yet nothing came.   
  
This crushed her more than guilt, more than love.   
  
She blindly pushed herself from the bed and tripped over Lilah's corpse, still lying grotesquely under the sheet on the floor. She staggered to her feet and looked frantically around, retrieving her clothes. Angel sat, dark, silent and naked on the bed, simply waiting for her to leave.   
  
"Just so we're clear," he said as she reached the door. "I never want to see you again."   
  
It was then that she saw it clearly. She saw it all, spread out before her as if built of crystal, sparkly and flawless.   
  
Angel was always prepared for the return of Angelus, just as Angelus was always prepared for the return of Angel. He had traded his own freedom for her destruction.   
  
It was perfect.   
  
"You want to let him win?" she found herself asking.   
  
Angel half turned to her.   
  
"Him?" he said quietly. "You of all people know there's only me."   
  
His dark outline loomed on her suddenly small bed. His powerful body, once protective, still held the menacing shape she had come to know too well. His face was expressionless.   
  
She finally turned her back, and walked out of the room. He heard the gentle rustle of chiffon. He heard her gather a few things, throw them in some bag or other. And then he heard her leave the apartment and pull away in his car.   
  
He looked around him at the lonely sheets. Through the smell of blood, he could smell her. He leaned forward, bent double, burying his face in the sheets. He filled his lungs with her, grasping the sheets into thick handfuls. He curled into them, wrapping her around him. The heat she had left there seeped into his body and he savoured every second through the crushing, hollow pain.   
  
  
  
They waited all night and all day, their anxiety and copious amounts of coffee keeping them awake. They even managed to laugh, once or twice, as they sat and sipped in the lobby. Laughter born of hope and buried fears. It had been almost twenty four hours since they performed the restoration, and yet they had faith. He was probably waiting until he felt he could face them, they said to each other.   
  
The sun had sunk well below the western rim when his dark form had appeared at the door. It was Wesley who stood to open it.   
  
"I'm afraid I still can't invite you in," he said. "Not until we're sure."   
  
Angel smiled, though there was nothing friendly in his face. He leaned down and took hold of a large bundle on the ground beside him, and stepped forward through the doorway.   
  
"She's not here anymore, Wes," he said. "See how quickly she forgets her home?" He threw the bundle wrapped in a sheet onto the ground. "Lilah," he said, his voice devoid of feeling. "I wouldn't open it, if I were you."   
  
Wesley stepped back, his face shocked to numbness. He covered his mouth, suppressing rising bile. Giles and Gunn quickly came to stand behind him, Gunn holding out a supporting hand.   
  
Giles turned to Angel.   
  
"Angel?" he said.   
  
"Rupert," replied Angel, in a voice that made fear dance coldly along his spine.   
  
"Where's Cordelia?" asked Giles. "Was she with you?" He thought he saw a flash of something, a glimpse of pain on Angel's face, but he lowered his eyes, and when he raised them again the look had fled.   
  
"She was with me when you did your little restoration curse, yes," replied Angel. "It worked, by the way. I can see by your faces that you're wondering."   
  
Wesley had calmed enough to look at Angel once more. Gunn simply looked angry.   
  
"See, there's something I forgot, and I allowed you to forget," continued Angel in his monotone. "Something Cordelia remembered." He took a step closer to the group almost huddled in front of him. "I'm a vampire," he said.   
  
There was a coldness in his eyes that chilled all three men to the bone.   
  
He cast a final glance over the lobby before leaving, his eyes briefly resting on the wrapped corpse on the ground. Cordelia's smell was on those sheets still.   
  
Then he turned and vanished into the darkness outside.   
  
They remained staring into the empty blackness for long minutes, until one by one they shook themselves and looked around. Wesley's sad eyes found Lilah's shape in the tightly wrapped sheet. Gunn glanced towards the weapons cabinet. Giles walked slowly to the reception desk and ran his hands over the box that had contained the last known Orb of Thesulah, until magics once again seeped into the world.   
  
  
  
Angel felt their eyes on his back long after he walked far away from the Hyperion. He glanced at the sky. There was plenty of night left, hours for him to roam, and brood, and watch life from the sidelines as he had for many lonely decades.   
  
Screw that, said a voice inside. Let's party.   
  
Just this once, he told himself, just this one time, maybe I'll listen.   
  
  
  
THE END.  



End file.
